Plunge Into Air
by Ava Cabot
Summary: Final update: Olivia faces her most troubling doubts, and wonders if her entire life is made up of mistakes.
1. I: Plunge Into Air

Ava Cabot  
  
Plunge Into Air  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: Dick Wolf and NBC own everything. All I've got is the plot.  
  
Author's Note: No more flames about this chapter, okay? Read the rest of the story, and then judge if the entire thing is bad, or not.  
  
~*~  
Catch me as I fall,  
Say you're here and it's all over now.  
Speaking to the atmosphere,  
No one's here and I fall into myself.  
This truth drives me into madness,  
I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away.  
  
Evanescence: Whisper  
  
~*~  
  
The phone beside Olivia's bed was alive.  
  
It rang incessantly, as she moaned and pushed a pillow over her head. The wall clock ticked four a.m. It was too early to be awake, even for her. Clock-out time today had only been two hours ago, when she'd left the station after Cragen couldn't hold the detectives anymore. They were working overtime, pulling eighteen hour days, getting just a few hours of sleep until they were all were called back to do it all over again.  
  
The latest case was eating away at them. They had so few leads, and the evidence was literally disappearing. A girl had been found, asphyxiated, inside a hotel room. She was only seventeen, close to Maureen's age. Elliot was thrown into a tailspin when he saw the beautiful, blonde haired girl streaked with blood across her body. She looked like Maureen.  
  
The word 'slut' covered her leg. Whoever did this was in it for revenge.  
  
Olivia hated taking work home. Not that she had anyone to lay it on, though. Fin had his dog, and even Munch had someone. Smiling slightly, she remembered the numerous glances he often sent Alex's way.  
  
And then there was Elliot.  
  
He was a typical family cop, with a wife and four kids. Maureen, the oldest of the brood, was in college. Then came Kathleen, in high school, and the twins, Dickie and Elizabeth, both still in elementary school. She wasn't really the type to raise kids. Seeing Elliot's from time to time were the closest she ever came to normal children.  
  
The others she knew were victims. Victims of sexual abuse, whether it was by a stranger, someone they knew, or even a member of their own family.  
  
She didn't even have a pet to talk to in her apartment. What welcomed her at home was an empty silence, desolate and still. She envied Alex, the only other female she was close to in SVU. She knew that crazy old Munch was mad for Alex.  
  
And whom did she have?  
  
She had no family that she could speak of. She had her mother, dead now, but of no special purpose when she was growing up. Olivia saw the guilt in her mother's eyes whenever she looked at her. She didn't see a budding little girl. She saw the result of her rape, a memory locked in her nightmares forever. She saw the man's face in Olivia's, the same steely gaze that he used on her. She was a victim. She of a crazy man's rage, of a violent rape.  
  
She sometimes wondered why her mother didn't abort her. The rape victims she knew usually aborted their babies, erasing the stain of their attacker forever. They never think about how the baby feels. Whether or not it wanted to live.  
  
Her mother chose to let her live, and she could only thank God that she was still alive.  
  
But then again, she wasn't a praying woman. She wasn't raised to be religious, and with the cases she saw everyday, it was hard to believe someone's looking out for all these victims and rapists.  
  
The phone rang for the thirtieth time. She had been praying for it to stop. Clearly, God wasn't on the side of a non-believer. Whoever was calling wouldn't give up until she answered.  
  
She threw the pillow aside, turning the answering machine on. Whoever was calling could leave a message. She wasn't ready to talk. For all she cared, they could leave a message, and she'd call them back in a few centuries.  
  
'This is Olivia.'  
  
'Leave a message.'  
  
'I'll get back to you.'  
  
'BEEP.'  
  
"Liv?"  
  
The voice was comfortingly familiar. The dark, husky voice of Elliot Stabler crackled through the ancient speakers of the machine. Immediately she perked—this wasn't some jackass trying to sell her life insurance or five credit cards.  
  
She heard him sigh, disappointed that she refused to pick up the phone. "I guess you wouldn't be up now. With the hours we've been pulling, you and I could use a couple years of sleep." His chuckle was rich and deep. "If you are there, which I know you are, pick up the damn phone." He paused. "In case you have amnesia, this is Elliot."  
  
"Benson," she said, snapping sleepily into the receiver.  
  
"Oh good, you are there."  
  
She ran a tired hand through her mussed hair. "It's four, Elliot. I fell asleep two hours ago. Let me sleep."  
  
"I can't wait, Liv."  
  
"Is something wrong with Kathy?"  
  
"You might say so."  
  
"Stop with the riddles."  
  
"Well first of all, could you let me inside? It's at least twenty out here, and I'm in pajamas and an overcoat. My balding little head is freezing."  
  
Olivia almost dropped the phone. What the hell was Elliot doing outside her apartment door? She didn't even think he knew where she lived.  
  
But then she smacked her forehead. Of course he knew. He was her partner, since years ago, when she had joined the veteran cop as his new cohort in busting sexual crime. She knew where he lived in Queens. She probably knew Kathy's maiden name, Kathleen's allergies, and where Dickie and Elizabeth went to school.  
  
"You die or something, Olivia?"  
  
"If you want to come inside, come clean with the story. Why are you here?"  
  
"Let me in and I'll tell you." She could hear his teeth chattering. Her heart knew it was freezing outside, and his hands were blue with cold. She didn't want him getting sick.  
  
Reluctantly she grabbed a robe from the closet, throwing it on as she padded in slippers towards the door. Opening the door with the couch afghan in hand, a very numb Elliot Stabler hurried inside, his breath tangible in the night air. He hadn't been lying; he was dressed in baggy striped pajamas, his thick, brown overcoat barely covering his shivering body. She was surprised he wasn't turning blue.  
  
"What the hell are you doing here?"  
  
"Polite, aren't we?" Elliot accepted the afghan gratefully, throwing it over his snow-covered shoulders. The fallen flakes melted into small puddles on the floor, which she kindly ignored.  
  
"Come on," she said, pulling him towards her tiny fireplace. "I'll light a fire, and get you some coffee."  
  
"What, no asking if I'm okay?"  
  
She turned on him. "Elliot, it's four in the morning. I'm tired, and you're out wandering in the snow. Tell me if I'm insane."  
  
He shrugged. "I don't know, Liv. Are you insane? Can Huang prove that?"  
  
She fingered the stray lining of her couch, sinking into the soft pillows. "Why are you here, Elliot?"  
  
"Kathy served me the papers tonight."  
  
Olivia sucked in a breath. "Divorce?"  
  
He nodded slowly, holding his head with one hand. "I think she's serious." He paused. "I can't believe it's finally happened. I never thought I'd lose Kathy or the kids."  
  
"She wants full custody?"  
  
"I don't know. She says I'm not a good father, coming home in the dead hours of night, not even going to school meetings, soccer games, or God knows what else."  
  
"You were always there for your kids, Elliot."  
  
"I thought I was. But according to Kathy and the lawyer, I'm not."  
  
"Do you want to save the marriage? There's always counseling..." Olivia trailed off. An ache inside her began to spread, and she knew it wasn't because of fatigue. A guilty hole settled in her stomach, as she knew that deep inside, she didn't want Elliot's marriage to be saved. She had offered vague marital advice for so long without effect, that she was almost sick of trying to solve the problems that plagued Elliot.  
  
She wanted Kathy to be out of the picture. She wanted Elliot all to herself, for all the selfish and avaricious reasons she'd never admit.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Elliot's laugh was short and hard. "My marriage is gone, and that's all you can say?"  
  
Her voice became defensive. "I've never been married, neverless been in a relationship more than two dates. You really think I know what you're going through? Geez, Elliot. If you want marriage advice, go to Cragen. Even Alex and Munch know more about love then I do. Hell, Fin and his dog are closer than I'll ever be to a guy."  
  
"Sorry, Liv."  
  
She smiled. "I insult you, and you're sorry? I should be apologizing. I am sorry that you couldn't work it out with Kathy. She's not a bad person. Don't blame her for everything."  
  
"Stop protecting my wife."  
  
"So, you want me to call Kathy a self-absorbent, egotistical bitch?"  
  
"You are a piece of work, Olivia Benson."  
  
"It keeps me alive."  
  
"I still can't believe it's over. Just a week ago, I was making promises to be home by nine. To at least tuck Dickie and Lizzie in bed. Help Kathleen with her late-night homework, and keep Maureen out of trouble. Guess Kathy was right---I'm not a great father."  
  
Tentatively, she touched his shoulder. "You are a good father. You're there for the kids, in your own way. You bring home the check that keeps them warm in a house, safe at night, and without an empty stomach. That's more than most of the losers we pick up on the streets, raping or killing their children. I don't see any scars on your children."  
  
"Not all scars are visible."  
  
"They aren't emotionally or physically damaged. Any doctor or shrink would agree with that."  
  
"My kids never saw me. I wouldn't be surprised if their friends thought I'd abandoned the family. Whenever people were over, I was never there. Instead, I was out catching some perp."  
  
"You were doing your job. The work we do isn't exactly nine-to-five. It's more like eight-to-two." She stopped. "In the morning."  
  
"I guess you're right."  
  
"You know I am."  
  
He shrugged. "I don't know whose right anymore. Is Kathy right for wanting to divorce me? Am I right for ignoring my kids all these years? Am I even right coming over here at four in the morning, and bothering you?"  
  
"I'm your partner. I'm supposed to be there for you."  
  
The words hung in the air, as Elliot gratefully sipped the steaming mug of coffee offered. He shifted, watching the steam curl from his cup.  
  
"I hate shoving all my problems on you, that's all. No one likes to haul the job around at home, and according to Kathy, that's exactly what I've been doing."  
  
"It's hard not to drag cop life home. Eventually, you start seeing everyone around you as a potential victim. It eats away at your soul, knowing that some perp could get them."  
  
"Took the words right out of my mouth."  
  
Olivia smiled. "Just call me psychic."  
  
"You and Huang should be partners. I could see you counseling people, instead of arresting and reading their rights."  
  
"What rights? Everyone knows that a criminal deserves absolutely nothing."  
  
"Standard procedures, Liv. You know that as well as I do."  
  
"I hate reading rights. It makes me feel like I'm giving them false hope. False hope that they'll get off for whatever sick crime they committed. People who sodomize children and rape defenseless women don't deserve a fair trial." Olivia's voice was bitter, each word filled with acid and a touch of vengeance. "They just don't."  
  
"I know you have a vendetta against sex offenders. Your mother was a victim. But don't try to atone for what happened with each rape survivor you see."  
  
Olivia slammed her cup down. "You're the one with a problem, Elliot. Stop trying to solve mine."  
  
"I just care about your sanity, that's all. Don't get mad for that."  
  
"My mother is dead, and I never caught her rapist." She paused. "My father."  
  
He touched her hand. "None of that is your fault."  
  
She sniffed. "Ironic, isn't it? You trying to help me instead of the other way around. As far as you know, your marriage is gone. Me, I'm still dealing with a cold, thirty-year case. The evidence is long dead, and the only witness is rolling in her grave." Running a hand through her hair, she snorted. "She would have laughed to see what I've become. A SVU cop, hunting the very people who made me."  
  
"You're a good cop. Any victim you helped could tell you that."  
  
"I've lost track of them."  
  
His hand moved to her face. "I could have told you that."  
  
Her dark eyes widened. Her body froze despite the heat radiating from the crackling fire. In her mind, she knew where this was going.  
  
But she couldn't stop herself.  
  
A wry smile crept across her face. "And why is that?"  
  
His hand lingered on her cheek. "You're not the only one with demons, Liv."  
  
Beside them, a log cracked into oblivion. Sparks showered down the fireplace, bathing Elliot's face aglow.  
  
"There's another reason for the divorce, isn't there?"  
  
She could hear him groan from the question. Gently, he trailed a lone finger down her chin, beside her neck, resting on her shoulder.  
  
"You're involved in this."  
  
Her breath caught. "How?"  
  
"Kathy thinks I had an affair."  
  
"With me?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Why? Just because I'm your partner?"  
  
"Don't be so naïve, Liv."  
  
"What are you talking about, Elliot? Yes, we work together. That does not mean that we. . .we sleep together."  
  
"According to Kathy, it does."  
  
"Working with me means a lot of things to Kathy, apparently," she said sarcastically. "So, Elliot? Are we having an affair?"  
  
He paused, the firelight flickering in his eyes. "We're pretty much joined at the hip, Liv. Psychologically, I can't verify." He tapped his head. "A lot goes in here."  
  
Her voice was soft. "Answer the question, Detective."  
  
Elliot stopped. "You're serious?" he replied.  
  
She nodded slowly. "Do you think about me instead of Kathy?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Time seemed to stand still. The fire stopped crackling, and the snow outside stopped falling.  
  
"Mon Dieu," she murmured, breaking away from him.  
  
"French?"  
  
"It means, 'My God'," she muttered.  
  
"You're mad, aren't you?"  
  
She glared at him. "What do you think I am? Ecstatic? Knowing I'm the reason that you're marriage is gone really makes me feel better, Elliot."  
  
"I just came here for some advice. I didn't mean to say all this."  
  
"Well you did."  
  
"I can leave now, you know."  
  
"Fine." She stood, in defiance of the hurt look on his face. Reluctantly he wrapped his hand around her arm, pulling her beside him. She sat, but refused to look at him.  
  
"Don't be like this, Liv."  
  
"Be like what?" Her voice was childish, almost whiny in tone. She was acting like a spoiled teenager and hated it.  
  
"I love you, Liv."  
  
"Mon Dieu, aide-moi," she muttered.  
  
He smiled. "More French?"  
  
She nodded. "My mother used to speak it when she was alone...or thought she was. She usually just ignored me."  
  
"Because you reminded her of the rapist?"  
  
"Because I looked her rapist." She smiled back at him. "Stay out of my mind, Elliot. It isn't a nice place to linger."  
  
He pulled her closer. "I'll take that chance."  
  
The touch of his hand made her shiver. She closed her eyes, knowing that God, Cragen, even Kathy and her mother were probably watching now. And they were frowning.  
  
She knew what they were doing was wrong. Elliot would be a married man, technically for many more months. Cop divorces were never smooth. To be with him would be call for charges of unlawful sexual relations with a married man.  
  
An affair that could scar her record for life.  
  
Was Elliot worth all of that?  
  
His face was close to hers---She could count every single eyelash, every piece of dark stubble on his face. He held her chin gently, and she knew he wasn't ready to let go.  
  
His breaths were soft and warm, and when he kissed her, she could taste the coffee in his mouth. The rock in her stomach was shoved away, as she waged an internal battle with her conscience and heart.  
  
Her heart must have been better at fighting, because her conscience wasn't putting up a fight.  
  
"I love you, Olivia," he said softly, cupping her face in his hand. "Don't ever forget that."  
  
She fell back on the couch, letting him run his hands down her body, hugging it close to him. She felt the icy chill flee from her body with every touch; she wasn't so cold anymore.  
  
Whatever bit of good conscience she had left was stomped on, as she plunged into the point of no return. The plunge into a deep, dark affair where there would be causalities, victims, and two people who would ignore everything else to be together. Someone would always suffer.  
  
All she could do now was plunge into air, and only pray Elliot would be there to save her.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N 2: any more mistakes aren't worth pointing out. Now keep reading, and then judge if the fic is bad or not.  
  
Mon Dieu: My God  
  
Mon Dieu, aide-moi: My God, help me. 


	2. II: Illusionary

Ava Cabot  
  
Illusionary  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Olivia, Elliot, and Cragen belong to Dick Wolf.  
  
Holding my last breath,  
Safe inside myself,  
Are all my thoughts of you.  
Sweet raptured light,  
It ends here tonight.  
  
Evanescence: My Last Breath  
  
It didn't take a fool to notice what they were doing.  
  
I, Captain Donald Cragen, may be old, bitter and somewhat ignorant of the affairs of my detectives, but I'm not stupid. A blind man could see what Olivia and Elliot were doing.  
  
Fools do anything when they're in love. I was young once. I remember being head over heels for a pretty girl. But I'm not so young and naïve anymore. I've had enough time to face my demons and try to conquer them. Compared to my experiences, Olivia and Elliot were just stupid kids doing stupid things.  
  
I knew Elliot had his eye on her since she joined the SVU force. Years of scaling up the wall intensity had led up to all of this, now in the present. I knew Elliot's wife, Kathy, was suspicious. Anyone would be. She'd probably heard of so many cases where a detective fell in love with his dangerously beautiful partner. It happened all the time, and not just in movies and on TV. This happened in real life, not fantasy.  
  
It started out small, at first. When Olivia transferred over, she was still a kid, the youngest of all my detectives. She acted beyond her years of a young cop, not wide-eyed and innocent anymore. She'd seen too many bodies ripped apart from life and too many tragedies to shake her. She was corrupted in the way a police officer is.  
  
She was striking, eye-catching, and dazzling. Dark eyes flashed underneath a flurry of long lashes, one eye always covered by a lock of stray chestnut hair. It swayed gently below her shoulders, framing her porcelain face. She was too pretty for the male staff of SVU. I know if I were at least thirty years younger, I'd like her. But I'm an old man, and have no interest in pretty women. Dead ones, not live ones, floated in my world of sexually- abused victims.  
  
Elliot seemed to be the only one noticing her. Munch was my age, and was interested in someone else, the identity of whom was yet to be revealed. Olivia was too young and bold for any man. It was no wonder she was always at the department, working instead of dating. Few men could put up with her. Elliot was one of those exceptions. It seemed a good idea to pair them together.  
  
No one ever thought their relationship could escalate to this.  
  
For a while, we all just ignored it, thinking Elliot was being a good partner, showing the rookie all the techniques of a good SVU cop. It didn't help that he was an overeager teacher, and she the ever-willing, too-smart- for-her-own-good student.  
  
Even then, she didn't know how far he'd been drawn into her. But then again, she was part of the entire problem.  
  
Day by day they faced some crime. Some incident where a girl was dead, by rape, molestation, sodomy, any form of sexual assault the assailant could think of. Everyone in their eyes became a victim. Elliot's children, their friends, and family, even random people they saw on the street. Anyone could be next in the ME's office.  
  
Cop life can eat away at souls. Elliot and Olivia were slowly drowning in dead bodies, choking on the stench of criminals and jail. I would pity them, if I weren't already lost to the world of injustice and murder.  
  
Elliot couldn't get enough of her, it seemed. They worked side-by-side in the morning, glued to paperwork until a murder called them away. They drove her car, driving all the way to the ME or hospital, depending on if the victim was alive or dead.  
  
They shared parts of their lives as time went on. Elliot's own personal one was eaten up by his bread-winning job, and Olivia lacked a decent social life for a person as attractive and young as she was for her age. Elliot tried to be a father while on the job, and Olivia tried to solve crimes single-handedly, trying to repent for the life she gave up. Both had vendettas to prove, and many believed they would die to keep them.  
  
Elliot wanted to keep his three young daughters and only son away from the crime-ridden streets of New York. He didn't want his daughters raped and killed, or his son driven crazy and thrown into a psych ward. He couldn't bear to see Kathy dead, covered by cardboard in an alley or floating down the Hudson.  
  
But that all changed with Olivia.  
  
Olivia and Elliot. Both good, strong names for people. Olivia's name was Greek, derived from the olive tree that Athena, the passionately wise and artistic goddess, gave to the Grecians. Elliot was the name of heroes, battle-savvy warriors, and men destined for a hard, rocky life.  
  
Once Olivia came into the picture, everything but her disappeared from Elliot's mind. Kathy, his home, even his past vanished whenever she walked into the office. She was drop-dead gorgeous in the way that exotic movies stars were, in a coy, almost seductive manner. She would have easily been at home in a dark, sultry corner of Hungary or France, where beauties like her thrived. Instead she planted roots in New York, preying almost like a succubus on Elliot's mind.  
  
They can't seem to function without the other present. Olivia, not bound by the responsibility of a family, is the earlier one of the two. She's agitated until he arrives, jumpy and anxious not due to a lack of sleep, but instead due to the lack of Elliot's familiar presence. Munch learned early to stay clear of her until Elliot arrived. Until then, she would snap if bothered, or pace around, her eyes pretending to scan a file.  
  
She was trying to hide her craze for him.  
  
Once Elliot arrived, the station functioned properly. Olivia could concentrate, and the other officers stopped avoiding the cranky detective. She remained calm, even suave when talking softly over the desk, acting as if her behavior prior to his arrival never existed.  
  
Olivia had him wrapped around her thin little finger. Any word she spoke, he replied to. It was a normal routine, one that didn't require much effort from the two. Whenever he rose to get a cup of coffee, he would return with a steaming paper cup for her. When she needed to rest after three days with no sleep, it was him who drove her home, making sure she made it inside her building. It was her who he came to console in. Not his wife.  
  
They just always assumed they would be together, as partners, as lovers. They were joined at the hip, and would remain that way for some time. They think I never noticed, but I did. I saw the way his hand lingered on the small of her back while they left for a case. I noticed when their eyes met above the desks, lingering until someone broke in.  
  
Their hands casually brushing each other's in the interrogation room. The lack of restraint between them while investigating was infuriating. They couldn't control themselves around each other. It was just impossible.  
  
And then she changed herself just for him.  
  
Elliot told her, in an overly friendly way, that she was looking too much like a cop. The makeup on her face increased. Her eyes were smudged with eyeliner, looking dusky in the early morning light. Her lips were fuller, her face glowing. She cut her hair short, throwing Elliot off completely. One day, she had long, naturally dark locks. The next, it was short and auburn streaked. She was distinguishing herself from Kathy.  
  
Olivia wasn't just his cute partner. She wasn't a kid anymore, interested in a man she could never have. The game of love was on, and she was ready to take action. Kathy was upbeat, blonde, and had held Elliot's attention for years. Olivia was shadowy, dark, and was catching his interest now. She crept up on the Stabler radar without much of an effort.  
  
Their façade was a curtain waiting to be dropped. Any minute their love- nest time bomb would explode, and take down the Stabler family, the SVU team, even most of the tri-state area with them. Their romantic interludes could take down the entire department.  
  
And yet they wanted to be together.  
  
Noises now interrupt my thoughts. I know Olivia and Elliot are still here—they are always the last ones to leave, around two in the morning. There's a reason we have a couch in the loft. Some of us, including me, don't even leave the station.  
  
They must think I'm asleep or gone. Or they wouldn't be talking so openly; so bold and promiscuous that it makes me sick just to listen. Don't they have sensors for this kind of conversation?  
  
Their voices drop to a whisper. If my curiosity was full of any sense of morality, I wouldn't try to listen. But they are my best detectives. If anything happens between them, I'm bound to do something. Transfer Elliot to Narcotics. Send Olivia to Alaska. Anything to get them apart from this situation.  
  
But instead, I listen.  
  
"...My eyes are killing me...find anything yet?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"We've had this case for almost a damn month. Why can't we pin the father again?"  
  
"Because he refuses a voluntary DNA sample, and Alex can't secure us a court order. Apparently, we have 'insufficient' evidence."  
  
"That's bull."  
  
"You and I know that. But the law doesn't."  
  
"We both know he's guilty. Why can't we just bust him?"  
  
"It'd be on our heads. Cragen would himself serve them to the DA on a silver platter."  
  
I smile. They know me too well.  
  
"I wish we could just put him away. His own daughter...he raped his own daughter. And covered his tracks by killing her. What kind of sick freak does that?"  
  
"The kind we hunt down and put in jail."  
  
"Doesn't anyone have a conscious?"  
  
"Sex offenders don't."  
  
I heard Olivia sigh. This was going to be a long night for the two of them. Elliot would go home around four, get yelled at by Kathy, and relive another day in Hell. Olivia wouldn't sleep tonight, and would twitch for about forty-eight hours before I send her home. But then, if she did sleep, nightmares would plague her. The bodies of girls we couldn't save in time would haunt her dreams. SVU cops lived in nightmares, not dreams.  
  
Why was it so hard for them to restrain themselves? Mentally, I knew they were all over each other. But physically, they were tumbling down in an avalanche of regret. If I could save them, I would. But even now, they were lost to each other.  
  
I watched him brush a tentative hand against hers. I could imagine Kathy sitting on the couch of her home in Queens, struggling to understand why her husband was never home anymore. She tangled with the thoughts of where he was, whom he was with. She knew he was with Olivia. She probably even thought he was screwing her.  
  
Well, Kathy wasn't completely off mark.  
  
I leaned farther on my desk, pressing my face down on the mountain of papers I should have been sorting through. I was exhausted, and could do nothing but listen to Olivia and Elliot struggle to control themselves. What had happened to my life?  
  
I heard Olivia's chair creak back. Her hair, messy from constant, tired swipes at it, seemed at peace with her red eyes, smudged makeup, and dark circles. Elliot's pale face reflected bright lamplight, his blue eyes struggling to stay open. They occasionally glanced up at each other, holding the gaze until one broke off, pretending nothing had happened, and there was no spark of love between them.  
  
The clock inside my office chimed two-thirty. Olivia jumped, crashing on the ground with a hard thud.  
  
"Shit."  
  
They hated the clock I kept in my office. It always managed to scare the crap out of Olivia when she was working late and low on sleep. It was always Elliot who had to help her up, easing her back into the chair. His smile made all the pain go away.  
  
I heard her stumble, grabbing the desk and swearing softly. She could have easily been a sailor, with that mouth of hers. Maybe she needed to stop listening to suspects, with all their threats of, "Mother-fucking bitch cop- --get your fucking hands off me, you shitting whore." Or, the occasional, "I want my fucking lawyer. I'm not saying nothin' until they get here. You hear me, you piece of law-abiding shit?"  
  
Sometimes I wondered how Olivia kept her cool around them. With all the words she endured each day, it was only a matter of time until she cracked. Occasionally, I watched her rest up in the loft, curled in a fetal position that reminded me of a child. She was a scared girl trapped in a woman's body, sometimes. She wanted to run to the mother she never had.  
  
But then again, who needed a mother when she had Elliot to go to?  
  
Elliot kicked his feet on the desk, Olivia watching him stretch out of the corner of her eye. A file scattered to the side, as he carelessly grabbed it with his free hand.  
  
"Damn," he said, watching the city lights flicker outside. "We need to go, Liv. It's late, and we have check-in at six. Want a ride?"  
  
She smiled. "Sure."  
  
I watched them rise, slowly and stiffly getting their coats. It's now I realize they haven't moved for over two hours.  
  
Olivia's coat rustles as she pulls her hand through the sleeves. Without even looking, I can envision the scene. It's what they do every night around this time. Elliot suggests they leave, finally, and helps her into the coat. He guides her out the door, resting his hand on the curve of her back. She doesn't react anymore---they've done this for years, that it's just second nature.  
  
But tonight might be different. I can feel it in my old bones.  
  
Their footsteps stop. I close my eyes, knowing that the end for their partnership is near. My detectives are strong, but they aren't gods. They can resist the temptation to kill or rape, but they can't resist each other.  
  
Olivia tries to speak first. Her voice her shaky, the words caught in her throat.  
  
Elliot's only a few inches taller than she is. In the shadiness of the doorway, I know he's memorized by every single shadow on her face. I can see his hands reaching up, one resting lightly against her waist. She's hesitating, knowing that what they're doing is wrong.  
  
But she doesn't care anymore.  
  
Like an explosion, I can feel the barrier between them come crashing down. They've finally done what they were afraid and wanting to do. His face is on hers; releasing every bit of emotion he can through her lips. She backs against the wall, trying to keep some sense of balance between them.  
  
Her hand guides him to her back. He presses against her thin body, the weariness in their bodies gone. I see stars in her eyes. His are glassy with tears, the two of them trapped in a parallel universe where their actions are not condoned by her sense of decency and his vow of marriage to another woman.  
  
I can't bear to torture myself with this any longer. Slowly I rise from my desk, counting carefully to ten before throwing open my door.  
  
"Get out," I snarl, scaring them apart.  
  
Olivia's large eyes widen, as she runs like a scared rabbit out the door. Elliot swears quietly, briefly glancing up at me.  
  
"You were here the entire time." His voice is hoarse, almost dead.  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
Elliot shakes his head. "I'm sorry, Captain."  
  
I point out the door. "Not as sorry as Kathy is going to be."  
  
"You'll tell her?"  
  
"That's not my job. You're her husband, and Olivia just became your mistress."  
  
"You have to understand---"  
  
"I don't have to understand anything, Stabler. You made a choice. You aren't a kid, and I can't stop you from doing what you did."  
  
"Please---"  
  
I shake my head. "Nothing else to say, Elliot. Go after Olivia. Be good to her. But don't leave Kathy and your children hanging. Either stay with them, or be with your new interest."  
  
"She isn't my new interest."  
  
"Since she joined the force, you've had your eye on her."  
  
"No."  
  
"Don't lie to me."  
  
He stops.  
  
"I can't protect you two forever."  
  
My words hang in the air, silent until we both hear Olivia's car rev up. It's his cue to leave, and find someway to pick up the shattered pieces of his life.  
  
"See you tomorrow."  
  
Elliot turns on heel, running out the door and barely catching Olivia in time. I hear the car drive away, and know that I'm alone. It's quiet again, the lamp by the two desks still buzzing away, the papers still scattered.  
  
I ease myself back into my office. There's nothing more I can do for them. Only they can fix the mess they threw everyone into.  
  
It was they who broke down their illusion, and let everything pour out into chaos.  
  
A/N: it took me awhile to write this, solely because I was having issues with keeping the story interesting. It's one thing to write a small, 2-page vignette of Captain Cragen's thoughts, but I wanted this to be a complete fic, the next chapter in my Olivia/Elliot fics. I hope everyone liked Illusionary. I tried to get inside Cragen's head, and pray I succeeded. Tell me what you think in reviews. Remember, no flames, please. 


	3. III: Winter Sky

Ava Cabot  
  
Winter Sky  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: Of course I own nothing but the plot and my made-up character, Lawrence T. Williams.  
  
Without the mask,  
Where will you hide?  
Can't find yourself,  
Lost in your lies.  
I know the truth,  
And I know who you are,  
And I don't love you anymore.  
  
Evanescence: Everybody's Fool  
  
I praise myself for never turning a case.  
  
My name is Alexandra Cabot, and I am the ADA for the entire state of New York. I work specifically to put away felons who committed a crime of sexual nature, considered especially dangerous. The SVU department is like my minions, finding me victims to testify, and criminals to persecute. I'm not sick for enjoying what I do. Putting perps behind bars is what I live for.  
  
But this was one case even I couldn't handle.  
  
The law is very specific. It clearly states that if a member of the jury knows any member of the trial, whether it is the judge, defendant, or persecuting ADA, they are required to step down, to prevent an unlawful bias.  
  
But if the ADA knows the defendant, sometimes they are asked to leave the case. After all, the defending lawyer would argue my motive for the prosecution. And in this case, I wouldn't disagree. I wasn't pleased when asked by my supervisor to hand the case over to someone else, when I saw the defendant; I knew my job was clear.  
  
I could not prosecute Kathy Stabler.  
  
The day that the case was assigned, as I remember, was cold and blustery. A typical New York winter day. My hair, forever flying haphazardly into my face, nearly blocked my field of vision, which lead to my near contact with a pillar outside the SVU department.  
  
I knew something was wrong when I walked inside. There were no welcomes for me. The familiar sight of Elliot, Olivia, Fin, and John together on a case was not there. Instead, Cragen snapped for me, pointing to his office. Elliot was nowhere to be seen. Fin and John ignored me, pretending to read over a file. Their eyes were not moving—I could see glassy tears building up for both. What scared me was the lack of warmth in John's ignorance. Usually he saved a smile for me. But today, there was nothing but ice.  
  
"What the hell is going on?" I asked. "I thought everyone would be working on the Tyler case. That victim is decapitating off all of the evidence, and if we can't use that, I'm so screwed over, that---"  
  
"Enough, Cabot," he snaps. "The Tyler evidence will wait. I don't think the DA will mind if we put you on another case temporarily."  
  
My leather briefcase shifts against my leg. "Where's Olivia? I asked her to check out the parent's house yesterday, and she never checked in. She's usually so punctual, too."  
  
"Olivia won't be coming in for some time." He kicked open a small cooler beside his desk. "So, what's your poison?"  
  
I shook my head. "Not now. Where is Olivia?"  
  
The cooler slams shut, startling me back towards the open door. Outside, Fin and John remain silent. I know they can hear every word.  
  
"Olivia is in intensive care." Cragen's eyes take on a far-away gaze. "Elliot's at home, probably ready to shoot himself."  
  
"If some perp hurt her, wouldn't I be notified?"  
  
"You were." His voice is sharp now. "The new case we're working on is this. We caught the attacker, and she's in Bellevue, awaiting your first meeting."  
  
"A woman?"  
  
"A woman," agrees Cragen. "I don't know how your boss will go over with this. She might take you off." He shrugged. "But I think you should start on it. You knew Olivia and her attacker. Maybe you dig something up for your replacement."  
  
"Who was her attacker?"  
  
"Olivia hasn't woken up yet. Fin and Munch are going to check in at the hospital in about an hour."  
  
"Who hurt Olivia?"  
  
"Maybe you could go check on Elliot, just to make sure he's still alive."  
  
"Don."  
  
He sighed. "Elliot's killing himself mentally for this. Huang's going to be shrinking him for a long time, after this."  
  
"Someone close to him."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A relative?"  
  
"No, not exactly."  
  
"Stop playing games, Captain. Tell me who the damn attacker was, and I'll start building my case."  
  
"Kathy Stabler." He spits the answer out, his eyes narrowed and angry. "Elliot's wife tried to strangle Olivia late last night. When she didn't clock in at six, Elliot went to go check on her." He stopped, closing his eyes to block out my steel-eyed glare. "He found Olivia on the floor of her bedroom, with Kathy sobbing beside her. The fingerprints underneath Olivia's fingers match Kathy's DNA. Olivia tried to fight back, but Kathy was too strong." He slammed his hand on the desk, rattling the can of licorice sideways.  
  
"Olivia never slept enough to be strong. She tried to be here too damn much, and she paid the price."  
  
My head doesn't start to calculate, as it would with any other case. Instead I'm numb, wondering why in the world anyone would attack Olivia.  
  
But then again, why should I be surprised?  
  
John and I discussed this once. He was always someone that had a brain- stemming topic to argue. Whether it was Roswell or the validity of a sugarcoated government statement, he was always there to rattle my mind with nonsense.  
  
I like men who challenge me. John was one of those men. I won't lie and say I didn't like his intrusions.  
  
But now was different. I couldn't stray away from the latest case at hand. An SVU detective was lying in a coma because of her partner's estranged wife. I could either sit on my ass and cry, or get a case built to win.  
  
I was ready to fight.  
  
I didn't appreciate the attitude of Kathy Stabler's lawyer. I've met surly, obnoxious, and horny lawyers before, but the very face of Lawrence Williams made my stomach churn.  
  
"Miss Cabot," he said, his words dripping with honey. "How nice of you to meet my client on such short notice."  
  
"It's 'Ms. Cabot' or ADA Cabot, Williams," I snapped. "And I want to get Mrs. Stabler's story straight." I set my briefcase primly beside Lawrence's chair, ignoring the sagging flesh that creeped over the seat.  
  
Kathy Stabler stared defiantly at me. Cop wives are always tougher than the average bride. They are made to believe in reality, in death, destruction, and persecution. They also know the dangerous world of the department and desks, with younger, exotic partners tearing their husbands away.  
  
The scene was straight out of a movie-of-the-week plot. Innocent wife tries to murder her husband's beautiful partner, accusing them both of being entangled within a passionate affair for the last five years. It seemed so surrealistic to me, and yet here I was, prosecuting the case.  
  
"Mrs. Stabler, where were you on the night of December 2?"  
  
She stared at me. "I was at home. Waiting for Elliot to come back from the department."  
  
"Is there anyone who can verify that you were indeed in Queens for the entire night?"  
  
She laughed coldly. "My sleeping children can't." She turned to face the window. "Except for Dickie. He stayed up until one, waiting for Elliot to come home. He wanted to show his father the science project he made." Her eyes clouded over. "He won second place, and his father wasn't there to congratulate him."  
  
"That's very touching, Mrs. Stabler, but Detective Benson's time of attempted murder is three in the morning. Where were you then?"  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "I was home."  
  
Williams leaned forward, his beady eyes fixed on me. "I think you have enough information, Ms. Cabot. Is that all you wish to ask my client?"  
  
I regarded him with contempt. "No, Mr. Williams, I'm not done. Now sit down and wait."  
  
Kathy crossed her arms, fidgeting from my gaze. She cast her eyes down, now playing the role of an innocent, love-driven killer. "I did go to Detective Benson's apartment that night. But it was earlier, at around two."  
  
"And why did you go there?"  
  
Her voice was plain. "I wanted to see if my husband was there."  
  
"And was he?"  
  
She nodded. "He was dropping her off."  
  
"So, he was not engaged in any romantic contact with Detective Benson?"  
  
"No," she whispered.  
  
Trial part 31  
Tuesday, December 13  
  
"What did Detective Stabler, your husband, proceed to do after dropping Detective Benson off at her apartment building."  
  
"He waved good-bye, and swore that someday, he would be home for his wife and kids on time."  
  
"And then what did you do?"  
  
"Objection!" shouted Williams, rising heavily. "The witness could not be placed at the apartment at this time. No witnesses."  
  
I turned to Williams. "Why thank you, Mr. Williams. But I think your client has already verified that she was indeed present." I looked at Kathy. "Right, Mrs. Stabler? You did state that earlier. And to lie now would be perjury."  
  
"Objection! Badgering the witness!"  
  
Judge Petrovsky, eyeing Williams carefully, slammed her gavel down. "Over- ruled. Continue, Ms. Cabot."  
  
"Mrs. Stabler, what did you proceed to do after your husband left? "  
  
"I waited in the car." She began to wring her hands, twisting her wedding band around her thin finger. "I—I was so scared that he had been sleeping with her earlier. I couldn't get the thought of him cheating on me with his own partner out of my head."  
  
"Where were you at three a.m. that morning?"  
  
Solid tears slid down her pale face. "I went inside Detective Benson's apartment. She was asleep on her couch, still in her work clothes." She turned to the jury, looking for a sympathetic face. "Elliot's coffee mug was beside her. Her lipstick was all over it, and I knew she'd been drinking out of it." She narrowed her eyes. "I—I blacked out. I went wild. I shook her awake, and screamed for her to explain herself."  
  
"Did you strangle Detective Benson there?"  
  
"Objection! Leading the defendant!"  
  
"Over-ruled. Continue."  
  
I leaned forward, staring Kathy Stabler straight in the eye. "What did you say to Detective Benson?"  
  
Her voice was choked with tears. "I screamed that she had been sleeping with my husband for over five years. Th--That she drove him away from his family and wife."  
  
"And then?"  
  
"I said she was going to pay for what she did. I—I couldn't see her with Elliot anymore. She would have to leave the SVU department. Forever."  
  
The court door closed quietly in the background. Without turning around, I knew Elliot Stabler had entered the room. His eyes bore into the back of my head as he sat down.  
  
On the prosecutor's side.  
  
"Mrs. Stabler, did you have any reason to strangle Detective Benson?"  
  
She looked up me. "You aren't married, are you, Ms. Cabot?"  
  
I took off my glasses. "I'm not the one on trial, Mrs. Stabler."  
  
Her voice became frantic. "You wouldn't understand! I've lived in fear that my own husband has been sleeping with his partner! A woman that has taken up more of his life than I have! She couldn't have my husband!" Kathy began to weep into her hands. "Elliot was my husband, not hers."  
  
"Your Honor, my client is clearly distraught!"  
  
Petrovsky stared at me. "Are you done, Ms. Cabot?"  
  
I spun on my heel away from Kathy Stabler. "One last question, Your Honor."  
  
She nodded. "Make it short."  
  
"Mrs. Stabler," I said softly. "Do you plead guilty in this crime?"  
  
I can hear Elliot intake a sharp breath. I know he doesn't want his wife to go to jail, nevertheless be arrested for attempted murder. But he can't forget what he did to Olivia. Kathy was a deranged wife wanting revenge against her husband's new interest.  
  
In any other case, I would have felt no pity for the defendant. But I knew what Kathy went through. Long, lonely nights alone in a double bed, waiting for a husband that would never come home. Kathy dreamed about him together with Olivia, cheating on her with his own partner. But she didn't regret what she had done to Olivia.  
  
"Not guilty," she whispers, staring directly at Elliot as she speaks.  
  
St. Catherine's Hospital  
  
756 45 East Avenue  
Thursday, December 15  
  
Olivia is sitting against her bed when I arrive. Her neck is wrapped with thick bandages, but I can see the blood seeping through. Her wounds, both physical and mental, will take years to heal.  
  
"Hey," she said softly. "I'm sorry you had to prosecute today."  
  
I snort. "You feel sorry for me? I'm sorry you have an ugly bandage around your neck."  
  
She doesn't smile back. "I don't blame Kathy for what she did, Alex."  
  
I sat on the corner of her grade-A hospital bed. "Why not?"  
  
She shrugs, wincing painfully. "I don't know. Probably because she was right to hurt me. After all, I hurt her."  
  
"An eye for an eye went out with the Romans, Olivia."  
  
"Not for Kathy Stabler."  
  
I hear a noise behind me. Elliot grunts a greeting to me, sinking wearily into a visitor's chair beside Olivia's bed. Her bandaged hand is held in his. The way he gazes at her, even I can feel the love that goes between them.  
  
"It's true, isn't it?"  
  
Olivia stares at me. "What?"  
  
"That you two—have been more than partners for the last few years."  
  
"You talked to Cragen, didn't you?"  
  
I shrugged. "We might have exchanged some words."  
  
"John, then."  
  
I look down. "Yes."  
  
Olivia looks at Elliot. "We should have told her, El."  
  
"The jury would have nailed Alex for bias against the defendant."  
  
"I've had harder cases, believe me."  
  
Olivia smiles finally. "You probably have."  
  
Elliot's eyes are tired but strong. "Do you think they'll send Kathy to jail?"  
  
I sling my briefcase over my shoulder. "I don't know. Olivia is a police officer, but if you two did really...well...have an affair, there might be some vengeful wife in the jury that wants justice for Kathy."  
  
Elliot heaves a sigh. "I guess so."  
  
I touch his hand gently. "Don't blame yourselves. In your eyes, what you two did was right. Love never makes sense to anyone but the people in it."  
  
"Thus the wise words of the ADA," chuckles Olivia. She looks at the clock. "You'd better go, Alex. You'll need sleep to grill Williams tomorrow."  
  
I nod. "Take care of yourselves."  
  
Both watch me leave silently. But as the elevator doors open to swallow me inside, I can Olivia talking softly to Elliot.  
  
"Were we right, Elliot?"  
  
Even without looking, I know his response already. The elevator doors close behind me, but I know what he is saying.  
  
"Yes."  
  
A/N: I was having one of the biggest cases of writer's block. I was working on the third chapter, and couldn't finish it. I was halfway through and was stuck. So I spent a few days brainstorming and mentally beating myself against a wall, and then, inspiration hit me like lightening. Now go on, review chapter three of my twisted Elliot/Olivia series, Winter Sky. 


	4. IV: Meet Me By The River

Ava Cabot  
  
Meet Me By The River  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot. Please enjoy.  
  
Long, lost words whisper slowly to me,  
  
Still can't find what keeps me here.  
And all this time I've been,  
So hollow inside.  
Watching me, wanting me,  
I can feel you pull me down.  
Fearing you, loving you,  
I won't let you pull me down.  
  
Evanescence: Haunted  
  
My mother was a woman of old-fashioned superstitions. She believed that a broken mirror brought terrible luck, that black cats belonged to the Devil, and that sunrises brought visions of things to come. A clear sunrise meant a good, conscious-free day. Cloudy mornings brought great sorrow. A blood red rising foretold oncoming trouble.  
  
The sun was crimson today, and I shivered inside my bed.  
  
It was summertime in New York, when the city is most crowded and congested with car fumes, humidity, and killers on the loose. We could find rotting bodies easily in the heat. The temperature couldn't mask what lay behind some group of bushes, or beside a dumpster in an alleyway.  
  
The air conditioning in my downtown building was terrible. It was murderously (what a pun) wet in the summer, and frightfully cold in the winter. I stocked fans and heating lamps in a spare closet for when needed, but even they couldn't shake off the temperature woes I faced. At least when I was home, which was rare.  
  
I opened my window, the only sounds that could be heard being a mourning dove cooing for its mate. I was sticky was sweat, exhausted, and wanted desperately to cry.  
  
"You must be strong, Olivia," my mother had once said. "You carry a heavy burden that you cannot carry alone. Find someone to help with it. Find a man to love you."  
  
If only it had been that easy. If only I could have found a nice, single, handsome man to call my own.  
  
In some ways, I had someone like that. Except for the single part. Elliot was still married, albeit in the process of a mutual divorce with Kathy, his wife. Kathy still hated me with a vengeance. I couldn't face her after she served Elliot the papers. She would have killed me with just one venomous stare.  
  
A burst of hot air hit me in the face. I blinked wearily into the bloodstained sky, wishing that I could sleep for a thousand years. I couldn't face another dead body today. Not today, not ever. Already I had hundreds of dead faces haunting my dreams. I wouldn't add another to the list.  
  
It was like looking at a lineup. But instead of being the detective, waiting patiently for the person to make a positive ID, I was the victim, watching a line of solitary women, children, and men swerve past me in a dizzying array of bloodshed, tears, and eyes frozen in death. I woke up screaming a few times, the insane laughter of a felon ringing in my ear.  
  
At least now I had someone to cry with.  
  
Elliot stirred in my bed, blinking rapidly when he saw the empty space beside him.  
  
"Thinking again?" he asked, his voice husky with fatigue.  
  
"Yeah," I said softly, wrapping my wrinkled blazer around me. "I saw fifty before I woke up."  
  
"Was the Kensington case there?"  
  
"It was."  
  
"You need to get shrinked, Liv. This kind of stuff isn't good for you."  
  
"I'm not going to talk with Huang. I don't do well with shrinks." I smiled wryly. "I saw rape crisis counselors as a child, my mother trying to find some way to help me cope with my situation as a progeny of rape. The shrinks there thought I was traumatized beyond belief. The truth is, I was scared stiff. I couldn't talk to them, or my mother." I sighed. "I was seven, when I saw my first shrink."  
  
"Want to talk about it?"  
  
I chuckled. "Not now."  
  
"Come on, it'll make you feel better."  
  
"What I could really use is some coffee and some lighter clothes. It's so hot already."  
  
He grinned, tossing me my robe. "You're hot."  
  
"Shut up," I answered good-naturedly. I pointed to the kitchen. "You go make coffee. I'll shower, and then we'll switch."  
  
"Can't I shower now?"  
  
"No. I'll fall asleep in the shower without the smell of coffee keeping me awake. Now go."  
  
"Livvie," he warned, as I began locking the bathroom door behind me.  
  
"Don't call me that!" The door clicked shut behind me, and I heard my bed creak and moan with the weighted pressure of Elliot's bulk no longer there. Turning on the cold water, I could hear him padding towards the kitchen, humming quietly over the coffee machine. Satisfied with his efforts, I stripped and threw myself into the shower, goose bumps rising over my arms and legs at the sudden shock of the ice-cold water.  
  
The numbing sensation encased me in a familiar cocoon. Sometimes it was easier to remain cold and unfeeling. It was better than having pain shoot through you, ransacking and tearing until there was nothing left to hurt.  
  
That's how I felt after I found another body. Another life torn apart by someone else's pleasure for pain. It was a sight I was accustomed, but not necessarily comfortable with.  
  
Elliot pounded on the door. "Coffee's ready," he shouted. "I'm running around the corner for some bread. You want anything?"  
  
"No," I yelled, leaning down to pick up a bar of fallen soap. It smelled of the forest and crisp, clean air. It smelled like Elliot.  
  
Now completely shivering in the cold water, I turned the spray off and shook my hair out, sending crystalline droplets flying to the window and door. Wavy lines cascaded across the fogged mirror, creating a striped pattern that stared back at my dripping reflection. I grabbed a nearby razor, cleaning my leg off with a few, quick swipes.  
  
"Dammit," I said quietly, the razor nicking a piece of dry skin. A slim trail of blood slid down to my ankle, as I hurried to clean it off with disinfectant. I winced as the alcohol seeped into my skin, burning the infection away but causing me merciless pain. The peroxide reminded me of my childhood, when my mother, mostly sober, cleaned my scraped knees from falling at school, or skinned elbows for trying to ride my bike. But now as an adult, I just lick my wounds clean, hoping that the blood on me, usually not my own, will just disappear, as well as the memory to the person who shed it.  
  
Outside my cell phone began ringing. I wrapped my robe quickly around me, rushing out wet and cold into the kitchen, where my phone buzzed and bumped around the counter.  
  
"Benson," I said breathlessly, kicking myself for not letting Voicemail take a message. I assumed it was Cragen, or even Munch.  
  
"Olivia?"  
  
I stopped, the deep voice not registering in my memory. It could be one of three people. A wrong number, Munch playing a joke, or some random person trying to scare the shit out of me.  
  
There was a beat of silence on the other line. "You don't know who this is, do you?"  
  
The voice wasn't harsh or cruel, so I assumed that some perp wasn't trying to ruin my life with a prank call. But I was still freezing in my robe, longing for the warm steam that remained in my bathroom. I wanted my hairdryer. I wanted a blanket---anything to warm me up after a shower with a water temperature in the 40's.  
  
"Who is this?" I demanded, ready to hang up. My finger rested on the red Cancel button, eagerly waiting to be pushed. I wanted to be disconnected to this stranger, and wanted to finish my shower before Elliot returned, seeing me dripping in the middle of the kitchen.  
  
"It's Brian, Liv."  
  
Now my heart stopped beating. Brian Cassidy was calling me? What in the world would he want with me at six in the morning? In any case, I gave up on the whimsical thought of returning to the bathroom. I grabbed a freshly washed set of towels from a laundry basket nearby, and padded myself from the cold.  
  
"Why are you calling me?"  
  
A soft laugh was his reply on the other line. "Do I need a reason to call an old friend? Come on."  
  
Cassidy's boyish charm was once charming. Now, five years later, it was annoying.  
  
"I'm busy, Brian."  
  
"It's six in the morning, and you're busy?"  
  
"Of course I am. You caught me at a bad time, and I need to get to the stationhouse."  
  
"Olivia, wait."  
  
"Five seconds. Talk now."  
  
"I want to see you."  
  
"I'm already seeing someone." I paused, Elliot's face popping into my head. "It's serious. I don't think I have room for another guy now."  
  
"Who is he?"  
  
"I don't think it's any of your business, really."  
  
"I just want to look out for you. Isn't that what friends do for each other?"  
  
"You left abruptly five years ago. You didn't call, write, or even speak to the rest of us for those years. A good Narcotics man named Fin replaced you. You did good work, but Fin is handling it better, psychologically."  
  
"So, I'm weak then."  
  
"No. SVU was emotionally hard to do. You're probably better off in Homicide."  
  
"Who told you I was in Homicide?"  
  
"Cragen." My voice was testy. "Now did you need something?"  
  
"Two questions. Who are you seeing, and when are you free?"  
  
"My answer is none of you business, and never."  
  
"Not even for an hour?"  
  
"I can't give up one minute."  
  
"Please, Olivia?"  
  
His pleading was irritating. My leg screamed for a moisturizer and my hair for a hairdryer. I wanted to hang up and finish getting ready. Clearly, the only way out was to go along with Brian's fantasy. I would answer his questions, and hang up.  
  
Relationships were so much easier with just one person at a time.  
  
"If I tell you, will you hang up?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Fine." I paused. "I'm seeing Elliot. There, happy?"  
  
Even though we were talking via phone, I could see Brian's eyes go as wide as saucers, his mouth dropping a few stories, his mind going suddenly blank.  
  
"Elliot's married."  
  
"Elliot's divorced, now. He moved in with me, and Cragen has agreed not to squeal."  
  
"What if I did?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I said, what if I told the DA what was going on? I doubt she'd appreciate that there was a hot and heavy going on right under her nose."  
  
"What is this, some attempt at blackmail?"  
  
"Just meet with me, and I won't say a word. I just want to talk, that's all."  
  
"I have work to do. I have a life that doesn't include giving in to half- minded revenge plots."  
  
"You know I won't back down."  
  
"That just means I knew you too well."  
  
"What's with the past tense?"  
  
"What's with the blackmail threat?"  
  
The door creaked open. Elliot walked inside, carrying a small bag of bread and a bouquet overflowing with flowers. He set his bundle down, watching my tense face carefully.  
  
"Who is it?" he mouthed.  
  
"Cassidy," I whispered.  
  
Elliot raised an eyebrow. He stuck his hand out, motioning for me to give him the phone. Reluctantly I handed it over, regretting what Elliot would say next. He was always bad with the men in my past.  
  
"Hi, Brian," he said, his eyes lightening. I shook my head, knowing that he was ready to mess with Brian's head. "What are you doing?"  
  
There was a pause, while Brian babbled out an answer. It sounded like a squirrel chattering from where I stood, but Elliot seemed satisfied with the reply.  
  
"All right. If you threaten Olivia again, though, I'll personally make sure Homicide has a new position open. Yours, specifically."  
  
More high-pitched squeaks.  
  
"Fine. She'll be there. Bye, Brian." He pushed the Cancel button, setting my phone done carefully. He tossed me the flowers, opening the bread and setting three slices in the toaster.  
  
"What the hell was that?" I asked, burying my face in the flowers. Elliot watched me carefully, taking in my wet hair and soaked robe.  
  
"Okay, he caught me right out of the shower. Now will you satisfy my curiosity and tell me what I just agreed to?"  
  
"Cassidy wants to talk to you, somewhere in town for a little bit. He's moving out West, and wants to tie up some loose ends before leaving. I told him that you would be out by the Hudson, around three."  
  
"You set up an appointment for me?" I was completely oblivious that Elliot would do such a thing.  
  
"I did." He kissed my cheek, taking the roses from my shaking arms. He gently pushed me back towards the bathroom, washing out a clean vase for the flowers. "I never said I wouldn't come, though. If you get into trouble, I'll be on him quicker than—"  
  
"I'm a big girl, Elliot. I can handle Brian, should he pull anything. I doubt he would, though."  
  
"I know," he said quietly, as I locked the door behind me, welcoming the warm, steamy vapors from the shower.  
  
"But sometimes you're too brave."  
  
I had been to the river before, with Elliot mostly. Either we were looking for another body, murder weapon, or once, for a picnic. It was sunny that day, with a gentle summer breeze rustling my worn blanket. We watched the sun set and drank red wine. It was a beautiful night.  
  
Some nights though, we weren't so lucky.  
  
Occasionally he could steal a kiss, when we were called in the middle of the night to a crime scene. After NYPD briefed us on the situation and we were sent back to the department, Elliot would often swing me from behind into a dark corner, kissing me like there was no tomorrow.  
  
In SVU, there could always be no tomorrow. We lived life on the line, staring Death in the face and daring him to take us, whether a perp shot us or we died in the line of duty. To us, it didn't matter, as long as we were together.  
  
But sitting here in the park by the river, I shuddered to think what life would be like if Elliot were gone. If he were dead, then a part of me would always be with him in the grave. We were bound at the hip, and nothing could separate us. Not even death. Despite my tank top and cropped shorts, I was still sweating at the thought of Brian confronting me.  
  
Except for a few families and couples, the park was empty. Mothers were gathering their children like flocks of birds, grabbing sand shovels and pails, ice cream wrappers, and stray hats. Kathy would have been one those mothers a few years ago. Elliot always said she was a good mother, but a semi-decent wife. She tried to hold her marriage together. But after Dickie and Elizabeth were born, life for them fell apart. Mentally, they were already divorced.  
  
A few women stopped to stare at me, staring into space with dark, vacant eyes. I turned to look at them, to flash my badge and make them get lost. But they round up their children and walked away, leaving me to my own thoughts.  
  
"For you," said a husky voice behind me, as a small pile of wildflowers bounced into my lap. I looked up, Brian's facing smiling in mine.  
  
I could see Elliot shift his position, sitting with his back turned on the opposite side of the park. His eyes were wary and alert. He was clearly expecting something to happen.  
  
I absently twirled a buttercup. "So what brings me here, Brian?"  
  
He sat next to me. "I don't know if Elliot told you, but I've been assigned out West. To California. I won't be back, for sure."  
  
"California," I whistled. "Where the sun always shines, and the crime wave is better."  
  
"That's Florida, Liv."  
  
"No, that's life on the other side of the continent. New York is a hard place, and from what I hear, California's a lot nicer. Where are you stationed?"  
  
"Somewhere in the Central Valley. I'll end up some farm sheriff chasing tractors, if I'm lucky."  
  
"Maybe you'll have a nice cozy job in a normal city, like Sacramento. I hear it's not as bad weather-wise as here."  
  
"You've been to Sacramento?"  
  
"No, but California is decent everywhere, I hear."  
  
"You hear a lot of things."  
  
I dropped my flower. "I guess so." Tilting my head, I stared Brian straight on. "What's this really about?"  
  
"I'm going to miss you, Olivia."  
  
"Stop beating around the bush."  
  
Brian acted as if he hadn't heard my words. "I have to tell you how I feel."  
  
And then it happened---so fast, that by the time I pushed Brian's face off of me, Elliot was on him quicker than any murder or rape suspect we'd dealt with. I knew he had a half-mind to cuff him.  
  
I remember that night well. The two of us were stupid and drunk, thinking our one-night stand meant something. We drank too much, almost died driving under the influence, and had sex that would change both our lives forever. Brian was a good man, but the not the one I could see myself with for the rest of my life.  
  
Brian stumbled from Elliot's grasp, wiping a streak of blood of his mouth. Elliot rubbed his knuckles, freshly bruised from a quick punch.  
  
"Bastard," snarled Elliot. "I told you not to pull anything stupid."  
  
Brian looked from him to me. I remained frozen on the bench, watching the scene as an innocent bystander, and not within my own body. I was a deer caught in a car's headlights, a rabbit seeing a shotgun death.  
  
The scene was almost surreal. Elliot stood towering over Brian, like two animals fighting over a mate. It was like some kind of sick special on the Discovery Channel. We weren't animals; we were cops.  
  
"Sorry," said Brian. He stretched his mouth around, wincing slightly as his jaw popped back into place. Elliot had knuckles of steel, and no one ever dared to mess with him after one punch. Every perp who dared to fight was easily knocked down.  
  
The sun was low in the sky now. Five o'clock wasn't typical sunset time in New York, but late-day shadows began falling from the branches of in-bloom trees. I stood slowly, adjusting my tank top, and avoiding both their eyes.  
  
"I won't forget you, Olivia," said Brian quietly, his body hesitating to come near me. I wasn't mad at him, or Elliot for that matter. Elliot wasn't possessive--- he was just protective. He knew I didn't want Brian all over me. He acted out of reflex, not instinct.  
  
"You'd better go," I said softly. "Bye, Brian."  
  
Elliot jerked his thumb away. "Get going."  
  
Brian nodded solemnly, but in defiance of Elliot's arrogance, kept his eyes on me the entire time he walked away. Soon, he was out of sight.  
  
Elliot took my hand in his. "You didn't need to hit him," I said, my voice slightly full of resentment.  
  
"You wanted him to kiss you?"  
  
"Of course not."  
  
"He was forcing himself on you. Being the overprotective partner I am, you know I had to do something."  
  
"Are you always that violent for me?"  
  
"Only when you're in trouble." He kissed the top of my head. "Which is often."  
  
Off in the distance another mourning dove began to cry. Before us, the sun began to slip away in the horizon. The sky was full of blood again.  
  
"My mother was right," I whispered, closing my eyes as Elliot held me close from behind. "Red sunrises do bring trouble."  
  
"Did you say something?" asked Elliot.  
  
I shook my head. "Just some old superstitions of my mother's. It's nothing."  
  
"Let's go home, Liv."  
  
But I couldn't just forget what had happened. Even though there was no body in this incident, there would always be another case, another body, and another shattered life.  
  
There would always be tomorrow.  
  
A/N: Isn't inspiration great? Because my muse felt nice today, I'm already working on the next part. Tell me what you think. Reviews always help me write better. Thanks! 


	5. V: December Rain

Ava Cabot  
  
December Rain  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.  
  
Dedication: Reviewers of all four chapters. The support has been awesome. Thank you for caring.  
  
I linger in the doorway,  
Of alarm clock screaming monsters,  
Calling my name.  
Let me stay,  
Where the wind will whisper to me.  
Where the raindrops,  
As they're falling tell a story.  
  
Evanescence: Imaginary  
  
My parents raised me to be a good, faithful Catholic husband. With their eyes watching me from Heaven, I know that I have failed them.  
  
It's true; I've gone against almost everything they taught me. I betrayed my wife, had an affair, and behaved selfishly for the last five years. My so-called fling with Olivia wasn't just some one-night stand. Our relationship was deeper than any marriage. We could finish one another's sentences and sense what the other was thinking. A marriage certificate was almost a piece of worthless symbolism. What we needed, we had: each other.  
  
It saddens me that I can only see my kids twice a month. Maureen isn't a child anymore, and therefore visits often out of her own free will. She was the first to come clean about already knowing about Olivia and I. She was a smart young woman, and knew when love was staring her in the face. She liked Olivia. She knew that we would be happy.  
  
But it's Kathleen, Dickie, and Elizabeth that I worry about the most. They're growing up alone upstate, living with Kathy and her parents.  
  
I know they hate me now, for breaking their daughter's heart. This isn't new news, though. They've harbored a strong dislike for me ever since Kathy started sneaking out to see me. They believed me to be a bad influence, always bound for trouble. Kathy's father hates me the most. A prominent businessman and frequent contributor to the police system, he's managed to snub me at every cop function I see him at. It doesn't help that Olivia's my date, staring back the world through her dangerously bold eyes.  
  
Kathy's father sees me as the ultimate betrayer. Heaven knows what he thinks of me now.  
  
Yech. Where did I pick up this Heaven Knows expression from?  
  
Oh, that's right. Olivia's rubbed off on me more times than I can count.  
  
Whenever I drive up to see the kids, she stays behind. Not that they hate her, but it would be more than awkward for her to show up with me. The cops upstate might get suspicious and rat us out, if they haven't already.  
  
I couldn't say that Cragen has been more than generous with his snarling promises not to tell the board about us. If they did find out, Olivia and I would be severely reprimanded, and sent to different bureaus, practically forbidden to see each other. It would be like some bad movie-of-the-week, a Romeo and Juliet façade gone wrong.  
  
Olivia was what helped me get through each day. She was my beautiful, gentle, sweet, and graceful Olivia, making my troubles go away with her easy smile. Her eyes shadowed secrets and kept light from penetrating her black pupils. But I trusted her completely, with my life and anything besides. We still had to keep up a fairly professional appearance, despite Cragen's assurances.  
  
Fin wouldn't tell, and I had something over Munch that somewhat resembled blackmail. In actuality, I caught him with Alex. Not just with her, rather, kissing her in a most intimate way. Either he was overly drunk or strangely sober. She must have been drunk, letting a mug like John kiss her.  
  
But who am I to judge? I can't play God in this forsaken city, full of criminals that never sleep and cops that can't dream at night. More than once, I've awoken to Olivia screaming in her sleep. I wake up every morning in a cold sweat, fearing that today might be my last, and I won't be able to spend every moment I want with her. Often, she cries herself to sleep, as we rock back and forth to a harmony that only we can hear. She's scared of what case she'll have to face next, what body she'll have to examine, and what victim she'll console. It's a dizzying, terrifying roller coaster, and Olivia and I are strapped to it for life.  
  
Till death due us part.  
  
It's corny the way that applies to us. It's like we're already married, arguing and making up the way we do. Olivia and I have been "married" for almost five years now. We couldn't be happier.  
  
I heard soft breathing beside me, and I knew Olivia was out of the bedroom, her eyes weary, but strangely on edge.  
  
"You seem stressed," I said quietly, edging my hand over her bare arm.  
  
She turned away from my touch. "I just heaved my entire intestinal system out in the bathroom. How do you think I feel?"  
  
My hand fell to my side limply.  
  
"I think I'm pregnant, Elliot."  
  
"But we never---we always---"  
  
"I'm sorry, Elliot."  
  
A bombshell had been dropped onto our perfect world. Everything inside of me froze, and I swayed backwards.  
  
I shook my head slowly. "Don't be sorry, Liv. But are you sure?"  
  
She shrugged. "How would I know? I've never been pregnant before." She cracked a weak smile. "You should know, though. Haven't you been through this enough times?"  
  
I shook my head. "Kathy never told me until she was sure, after she had taken a test...not with Maureen, she was a surprise...then, Kathy saw a doctor. First time pregnancies are difficult sometimes...and we were young and stupid...oh God, Liv..."  
  
She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe you should stop with these trips down guilt- trip lane."  
  
"Do you want to sit down?"  
  
She held up a hand to stop me. "What I'm going to do is see a doctor. You should stay here. Just in case one of us gets a call, you'll be closer and in a better situation." She shoved my arm. "I can't have my phone on in the doctor's office anyway. I'll be shut out to the world."  
  
I kissed her head. "Okay."  
  
She nodded, picking up her jacket, thrown carelessly over the couch. I watched her grab her purse, something about her demeanor different. Maybe it was the idea of a pregnancy hanging over her head. Not that Olivia didn't have natural maternal instincts, but she had never had a child before. I knew that she was scared, even more of this than any criminal we'd faced. This was more than personal for her.  
  
"Bye, El," she said softly, her eyes laden with fear.  
  
The door slammed shut behind her. The silence surrounding me was ominous, and I had half a thought to call Munch, and ask if he were up for some male bonding.  
  
Outside, I could hear rain begin to fall.  
  
It was beginning.  
  
"Elliot, I'm flattered beyond belief, but really, I just see us as good friends."  
  
I glared at John over my beer, watching the heavy December rains outside the precinct window. The stationhouse was deserted on Sundays, and this one was no exception. Still, it was better than staying at home, pacing for hours until Olivia came home. I was desperate enough to hang out with John Munch.  
  
Really, my life was beginning to fall apart.  
  
"Shut up, John," I snarled quietly, kicking the bottom of my desk. A photo of Olivia clattered across the surface, and John narrowly caught it with his foot.  
  
He kicked it back on the desk with surprising agility. "You should be more careful with photos of your beloved." He sipped his cold coffee. "Ah, young love."  
  
"And you're pretending that you know nothing about my threat of blackmail hanging over your head?"  
  
He watched me warily. "That was an accident. Alex had something in her eye, and being the gentlemen I am, helping her was just another act of chivalry on my part."  
  
"That something must have been in her mouth, because you two looked pretty much like---"  
  
"One word to Cragen, and our deal is up."  
  
"I can't tell. You see John; we both have threats up our sleeves. You can squeal about Olivia, and me or I could tell the DA about you and Cabot. There is no winner here."  
  
"We aren't serious. She's a hardass, nothing like my ex-wives."  
  
"Which is why you might end up staying married to her for more than a few months. Maybe you'll die a married man."  
  
"And what about you and dear Olivia? Do I hear wedding bells?"  
  
I nursed another slug of my drink. "You might be hearing baby screams if the test is positive."  
  
John spit a hearty mouthful of stale coffee into the garbage can. "Elliot, you pimp. You got your own partner pregnant?"  
  
"She's my partner, and my---"  
  
"Your what, Elliot? She's still your partner, but is she your girlfriend? Is Olivia your fiancée, mistress, lover, or soul mate?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
He shook his finger at me. "Well, figure out soon. Mother of your child might be another title to consider, should you not pick one soon."  
  
I knew John was right. Olivia had waited for me, to mutually divorce Kathy, sign my children away on a few dotted lines, and keep our secret just to the SVU department. I couldn't lie and say she wasn't patient. Sometimes it was hard for her, being low on sleep and knowing that she couldn't just pretend that nothing besides being partners was going on between us.  
  
Just a few weeks ago, we went out to dinner. It had been a bad week, with ten cases over our heads and no leads on half of them. Olivia hadn't slept for three days, and was running on only four when we went out. But we snuck out of the stationhouse and caught some sleep back at home. The dark circles under her eyes began to fade away, and I told her to get dressed up, that I would take her out for dinner. She had laughed, asking me how I could afford her such luxuries on my cop's salary. I tactfully reminded her that she made just as much as I did. We weren't that well off. But I could spoil her for one night. After the weight she had been pulling, she deserved a medal.  
  
Or at least a nice dinner, and not the usual take-out crap that Fin or Munch brought back at around eleven.  
  
We didn't expect to run into any other cops while we were out. There are thousands of restaurants in New York, and surely we would be the only police detectives in one. Fate loved to twist our lives around, and we recognized over ten officers when we arrived, dripping wet from the sleet outside.  
  
I wanted to leave and just order take-out, as usual. I wanted to chicken out and take Olivia home.  
  
But she insisted we stay. My reservations stood, and she assured me that we would just avoid the eye of any suspicious officer.  
  
They all seemed to be gathered for some private celebration. We recognize the majority of them from Vice and not Homicide, where most people would remember me.  
  
Olivia is dressed in a beautiful black dress, her eyes shining and from fatigue and the shimmering chandeliers above us. Her hand is damp and shaky, a clear sign of over exhaustion on her part. I don't remember the last time she slept for a full night, without waking up from a nightmare, one she thought was inescapable.  
  
Some days, it seems like she's trapped in a nightmare, never able to wake up safely. The criminals who stalk their victims now haunt her, as they reside in her mind, waiting to surface and scare her into insomnia.  
  
"Earth to Elliot," hissed John. "Did you lose yourself in la-la land for a few hours, there?"  
  
"Remember a few days ago, when I took Liv out to dinner?"  
  
He nodded slowly. "Cragen smelled a rat." He paused thoughtfully. "There probably was one rotting in the vents, too."  
  
"Lovely."  
  
He tapped his head. "When you're old, gray, and cynical like me, you tend to be a little more pessimistic."  
  
"I can't believe that Alex ever went out with you."  
  
His smile curled slightly, as he titled his glasses below the nose line. "It's my youthful indiscretional charm that won her over."  
  
"You're about as ugly and contemptuous as they come, John."  
  
"I'll remember to tell Alex you spoke fondly of me."  
  
"Do you have a pet name for the resident ADA yet?"  
  
"Let me guess. You call Olivia honey and sweetie, right?"  
  
"I think we're getting a little off topic, here."  
  
"You're the one who brought up Alex."  
  
Lightning flashed outside, brightening the room with a flash of pure electrical light, surging through the power lines, making the stationhouse flicker between darkness and visibility.  
  
It was raining that night too. Olivia didn't seem to mind, especially with the smiling escort holding an umbrella over our heads as we exited the restaurant, hours after dodging off-duty cops and un-necessary stares. I tried to kiss her at home, teasing the zipper of her dress with my finger. But one look in her eyes made me stop. They were hollow and full of sadness. I backed away, and Olivia slept for two hours that night, before waking up from another nightmare.  
  
John's voice was soft, catching volume in my ear as I phased out of my reverie.  
  
"You really love Olivia, don't you?"  
  
It took me a minute to smile back. "Of course I do. I'm glad the notion's finally through your thick head, though."  
  
"And you say that you would do anything to keep her safe?"  
  
"Yeah. Where's this going, exactly?"  
  
He threw the half-empty paper cup in the bucket, the congealing coffee nearly swerving out. He fixed a genuine smile on his face, tipping his hat towards me. The office lights flickered, and I lay back in my chair, watching John carefully eye me and rise at the same time.  
  
"Then go after her, you idiot."  
  
He slung his coat over his shoulder, heels tapping the floor softly as he left the stationhouse. I could hear him speed-dialing Alex's office.  
  
"Is Alex Cabot there?"  
  
Pause.  
  
"Tell her its John Munch."  
  
Another pause.  
  
"I don't care if she's not taking calls. Tell her it's her detective. Yes, her detective." His soft chuckles fading into the distance, with the words, "Afternoon, sweetheart," ringing in my ears. The outside doors slammed shut, and I was alone once more.  
  
Lightning flashed again outside. I knew it was time to leave, and chase after Olivia.  
  
I wouldn't let her get away.  
  
The sun had long slipped away behind the storm clouds. Inside Olivia's apartment, illuminated by an assortment of lamps, I anxiously watched my twitching foot, keeping my eyes on the door. If my elementary school arithmetic was any good, she had been gone for over two hours.  
  
Outside, thunder and lightning brought warnings of a turbulent night. The coffee maker blinked off and on in the kitchen, but I chose to ignore it.  
  
There were two possible scenarios I was looking at.  
  
One: Olivia was pregnant. I could only hope with one child. The birth of one set of twins had been fairly traumatizing for Kathy and I. Dickie and Elizabeth were both early, and we were scared to death that they wouldn't survive their first few months. Kathy was panicking during her Cesarean, her fear of being cut open then a fresh reality. Olivia is a cop, one that doesn't flinch at the sight of any sort of hospital gore anymore. Should she be pregnant with twins, I wouldn't worry about their health as much. Olivia was strong and the babies would be born healthy. Should she only be having one, her ability to remain resilient would keep our child safe.  
  
If she had triplets, I think we both might shoot ourselves.  
  
Or, Olivia might not even be pregnant. For all I knew, she's sick to her stomach because of some bad Chinese that Munch brought in. The tests could come back negative, and Olivia wouldn't be burdened with desk duty for her term, and constant maternal worries. Not that I wouldn't be disappointed if she wasn't pregnant. But I wasn't so sure that we wanted a family. We weren't even married legally, and growing up in a household with both parents as cops isn't an ideal setting for a decent childhood.  
  
The rain began to come down faster on the roof, as my heartbeat sped up in tune with the now-pounding hail. Vaguely, I thought I could hear footsteps coming near the door. One more second of thinking, and I was sure to explode.  
  
I loved Olivia with all my heart, soul, and well being. No matter what would become of this night, she would always be with me. I would never do anything to hurt her. If it was in some divine plan for us to unexpectedly start a family, then so be it. I wouldn't try to question fate. I've already done that once, and lived to regret it.  
  
I barely had time to get up and greet Olivia, as she slammed the door shut. Tears smeared her face, and she sunk to floor, sobbing into her already- soaked arms. A slim blue pamphlet fell from her arms, and skittered across the floor awkwardly. I recognized the fine print from the Morris Commission. Years ago they had called me in for "dreaming of killing suspects", along with Jeffries, who had indeed slept with a suspect.  
  
Fin was her replacement.  
  
I didn't know whether to go to Olivia or read the papers first. Olivia's cries became high as shrieks, as she tumbled into my arms, helplessly pounding her fists into the wall. An unlit candle beside us fell to the floor, clanking loudly despite her sobs.  
  
"S-S-S-Someone's done this!" she cried. "S-S-S-Someone's turned us in to the Morris Commission!"  
  
The ringing in my ears began again. Outside the lightning flashed in sync with her moans. Thunder roared and all Hell seemed to break loose outside. It was like we were trapped in a horror movie, waiting for the frightful punch line.  
  
"Liv, what about the pregnancy tests?"  
  
She looked up me, eyes still streaked with tears.  
  
She began to choke out an answer.  
  
"I'm--"  
  
A/N: evil cliffhanger!!! I'm sorry, but I really wanted to build up the suspense and anticipation for the next chapter, part six. Gosh, I never thought this little collection of fics would get as far as it did. The reviews have been more than supportive and heart-warming. I hope this chapter leaves you feeling angry with me, (for leaving you all hanging), but eagerly waiting for the next chapter. It is already titled and basically plotted. The title is The Dreams of Martyrs, and will answer whether or not Olivia is indeed pregnant. Also, we'll find out why the Morris Commission has summoned our favorite detectives to court. Casey Novak will make her first debut in my fic; time lining the entire storyline accordingly. Until then, keep reviewing, and I'll try to update ASAP. Thanks! Ava 


	6. VI: The Dreams of Martyrs

Ava Cabot  
  
The Dreams of Martyrs  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: I had once had a dream that I actually owned SVU. Then I woke up, and realized I didn't. So again, nothing except the plot belongs to me.  
  
I believe in you,  
  
I'll give up everything just to find you,  
I have to be with you,  
To live, to breath,  
You're taking over me.  
Have you forgotten all I know?  
And all we had?  
You saw me mourning my love for you,  
And touched my hand.  
I knew you loved me then.  
  
Evanescence: Taking Over Me  
  
Last time in Chapter Five: December Rain  
  
"Liv, what about the pregnancy tests?"  
  
She looked up me, eyes still streaked with tears.  
  
She began to choke out an answer.  
  
"I'm--"  
  
Elliot POV  
  
"--pregnant."  
  
A strangled, held-in gasp escaped from my throat. Everything inside of me seemed to collapse, as Olivia sobbed in my arms. I kissed her head, rocking her shaking body back and forth.  
  
"It'll be okay, Liv, really," I said softly, "We'll be a family, at last. We can buy a nicer apartment, get married, and live happily ever after."  
  
"You don't understand, El," she cried.  
  
"What?"  
  
"There were two."  
  
"Twins?"  
  
"Yeah," she whispered. "We already lost one of them." She wiped her eyes haphazardly. "It was a girl."  
  
"What about the other one?"  
  
"A boy."  
  
I let out a held breath carefully, keeping my emotions in check. I knew how upset Olivia was. Kathy was rather fertile, getting pregnant most of the time without any complications. But Olivia was different. I didn't know anything about what went on inside of her body. For all I knew, our son could be in serious danger.  
  
"What else did the doctor say?"  
  
A small smile slipped onto her face. "The other one should be just fine. He might be early, but he'll be perfectly healthy." She rested her head against my shoulder. "At least there's that small hope."  
  
"I can't believe we're going to have a son."  
  
She kissed me softly. "Easy for you to say, Stabler. You won't be carrying him for almost nine months."  
  
A sudden rush of adrenaline seared through my body. I felt like screaming three words out to the entire world, Munch's cynical but decently helpful advice ringing through my head.  
  
"Marry me, Liv."  
  
Her eyes went wide. "What?"  
  
I pushed her onto her feet, rising to my knees and keeping her hand in mine. "I want us to get married. I want to be a family. All three of us. You, me, and our son."  
  
"Mon Dieu," she whispered.  
  
"Don't use all that foreign language stuff on me. You know I'm not very language-savvy."  
  
A choked gasp escaped from her throat. "Of course I'll marry you."  
  
Ecstasy charged through me. I grabbed Olivia with all my strength, swinging her round and round the entryway. Startled, she shrieked, clinging tightly to my neck. I set her down gently, the two of laughing our faces until our stomachs hurt.  
  
"You don't know how happy this makes me, Liv." She buried her face in my shoulder, trying to hold back the grin that spread across her face. "We're going to get married. Married!"  
  
She chuckled quietly. "Do you want to pick out a ring?"  
  
I reached into my back pocket. "Already did." Opening the fat velvet box, a diamond surrounded by pale white gold shimmered in the candlelight.  
  
"Oh God," she whispered, as I slid the cool, shining band around her left finger. She held her trembling hand up to the light, watching thousands of rainbow beams shoot out from within the precious stone. "It's so beautiful."  
  
"Only the best for you, Liv."  
  
"Elliot," she said, wiping fresh tears from her eyes. "Maybe this isn't the time to ask, but---"  
  
"Anything you want, Liv. Just name it."  
  
"I want a stone for her."  
  
"Who, Liv?"  
  
"The one we just lost." She cast her eyes down, the air of happiness and excitement slowly dying around her. "It doesn't seem right, to celebrate and then forget it ever happened."  
  
I picked up my cell phone, my finger hesitating over the numbered dials. "How do you know one was a girl?"  
  
"I can just tell." Her eyes were pleading painfully for me to believe her.  
  
"Just name the place."  
  
She watched me go into the kitchen, grabbing a phone book and flipping the yellow pages quickly.  
  
"Elliot," she said.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
I smiled. "You're welcome, Liv."  
  
Olivia POV  
  
Mrs. Olivia Stabler. Detective Olivia Stabler.  
  
It did have a nice ring to it, as Elliot assured me one thousand times as we drove into work that morning. I couldn't stop staring at the sparkling diamond on my left hand. Every moment I got, I made sure the catch the early morning sunlight reflecting off of it. Nothing could have been more perfect. The snow had stopped falling hours before we were up, and now fresh powder laced the roads and sidewalks. It was cold, but not freezing. But a small corner of my mind began to quake with fear.  
  
We were being called down to the Morris Commission tomorrow. Today was our only day to prepare a defense with Alex, and clear things up with Cragen. In some ways, we should have been packing our things away. If it were up to the Commission, we would already have been separated and fired.  
  
It was as if no one understood why we did the things we did.  
  
I couldn't very well explain to a council of ten, lazy, obnoxious, over- paid men why I fell in love so quickly with Elliot. No one can explain why they fall in love. I'm sure more than half of the council is married. Could they go before the commission and explain the basis of their marriage?  
  
I doubt it.  
  
More than half the department eyed Elliot and I when we walked in this morning. Fin and Munch, already hunched over mountains of paperwork, cautiously eyed the rock on my finger, winking at them through the dusty light.  
  
"Nice ring," said John, raising an eyebrow at Elliot.  
  
Fin snorted, pretending to cough while laughing behind his fist.  
  
"Morning," said Cragen, turning his eyes from Elliot to me. One glance at my hand made him flinch ever so slightly. "I see you've done the deed." He was speaking to Elliot, not me.  
  
"And you're more than screwed over." This time, his words were for me. He could see my protruding belly stretching through the shirt. "Nice shirt."  
  
"It's early maternity wear."  
  
Fin dropped his coffee mug with a loud crash, porcelain shattering nearby his foot. Even Munch's mouth dropped a few stories, as he blinked a few times, trying to clear his mind.  
  
"Olivia's pregnant?" said Fin.  
  
"Yeah," said Elliot. "With my son."  
  
"How do you know it's a boy?"  
  
"We just do," they replied simultaneously.  
  
"So there'll be a little Elliot running around the Stabler-Benson household. How cute," muttered John, cracking a wry smile across his worn face. "Wait until I tell Alex."  
  
"Tell me what, John?"  
  
He swallowed loudly. The five of us turned, watching Alex saunter inside. She slid her glasses off her face, shaking wisps of honey-blonde hair out of her face.  
  
"So the beautiful Alexandra Cabot has arrived. Excellent," said Munch, sliding out of his chair and smoothly approaching her.  
  
"Nice try, John," she said, pushing past his open arms. "Tell me what," she repeated, before glancing down at my growing waistline.  
  
"Dear God," she said softly. She reached a trembling hand to my stomach, touching it lightly with the tip of her finger. "You're pregnant, Olivia." She glanced at Elliot. "With his child?"  
  
I nodded. "It's going to be a boy."  
  
"How do you know it's a boy?"  
  
"Just do."  
  
She whistled. "The Morris Commission won't be too thrilled with this news. Right now, they just think you two are dating. They'll be traumatized to hear that you're pregnant."  
  
"And engaged."  
  
"Congratulations," she added, as an afterthought. After a moment's realization, she widened her eyes. "Engaged? You and Elliot are getting married too?"  
  
"Great, isn't it?" said Elliot.  
  
Alex half-nodded. "As a friend, I say to open a bottle of champagne and celebrate." She paused. "But as the ADA, I need to warn you, to keep the marriage thing under wraps. The two of you are screwed over enough as it is."  
  
"What are we going to do, Alex?"  
  
She set down her briefcase. "I don't know, Olivia. We'll have to prove a lot of things that probably aren't true, and lie a bit to the very people who can grill both your asses."  
  
I sunk into my chair, Elliot cradling his head in his hands, slinking back similarly to me.  
  
"The best legal advice I can give you is this. Tell the truth, and above all else, do not ramble. It is key that you do not keep talking. Answers should short and brief. Let their sick imaginations run wild, whatever. Don't let the commission pin something on you, or it'll follow the two of you all the way to Hell."  
  
"That's some speech, Counselor," said Cragen, clearing his throat. "It almost sounds illegal."  
  
Alex allowed herself a thin smile. "It most likely is. But then again---" She waved a careless hand at John. "---what I'm doing with this detective is as well."  
  
The rest of us shuddered, as John stuck his hand in hers. "Now if you'll excuse this gorgeous woman and I, we have a breakfast---er---meeting."  
  
"Sure," snorted Fin. "Just go find some dark corner, so the rest of us don't have to wake you two lovebirds up later."  
  
Alex raised a slim eyebrow, rolling her eyes slowly as John led her out, wrapping his thick overcoat around her shoulders.  
  
"Ou est-ce que tu voudrais aller, ma cherie?" purred John.  
  
"Olivia and I know French, John," shouted Elliot. "You can't hide your words of love from us."  
  
John responded politely with a hand gesture, letting the doors swing shut behind their fading figures.  
  
Morris Commission Headquarters  
December 3  
One Police Plaza  
Courtroom 25  
  
Elliot POV  
  
It was cold in my courtroom, very cold, to be exact. I knew the police department was in dire need of donations to install vital heating systems for the dipping temperatures of winter, but I had no idea that as a summoned detective, I was supposed to freeze into a Popsicle before I even was called in for my hearing.  
  
"Stabler, Elliot?"  
  
I nodded to Olivia, who sat next to me, shivering despite my jacket and her own. She began reaching through the large sleeves, trembling even more as she shed another layer off her growing body. I shook my head quickly, wrapping her back inside the warmth of my coat. She smiled, reluctantly letting my surprisingly warm hand go.  
  
I could see pity in the court official's eyes.  
  
"So," I said cheerily. "Do you know why us two SVU cops were called down today?"  
  
"No, sir," he replied, slightly intimidated by my voice. He was new; easier to break.  
  
"What's your name?"  
  
"Peter, sir. Right this way, sir, to courtroom thirty-five."  
  
"Do you know the woman sitting beside me?"  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"How?" I asked, playing out the surprise on my face.  
  
"My cousin was raped two years ago." Peter cast his eyes down, a flash of anger passing through monotone blue eyes briefly. "That woman, Detective Benson, helped my cousin get to a good counselor. She's very grateful."  
  
"Her name is Olivia. She's a beautiful woman, isn't she?"  
  
Peter flushed. "I-I don't know, sir."  
  
"Come on, you can tell me. We'll keep it just between us guys."  
  
"She's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he blurted out, immediately cupping shaking hands over his gaping mouth. "I'm sorry, sir," he said shakily. "I know you two, well, are---"  
  
"Involved?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
His words struck up my stubborn sense of curiosity. "Tell me, how did you know that?"  
  
Peter shrugged. "The Commissioner's been talking about it for weeks." He gulped slowly. "He says the entire Special Victims Unit is full of inter- cop relationships." Peter lowered his voice to a whisper. "I used to work at the Assistant District Attorney's office, for ADA Cabot. The clerks there told me that they thought Ms. Cabot and one of your detectives were...you know, involved too."  
  
Mentally, I made a note to give Alex and John a heads-up. Clearly, they were as stupid as Olivia and I were about PDA.  
  
"Here we are, sir," said Peter quietly, unlocking the heavy, scratched wooden doors. "Good luck," he added.  
  
"Thank you, Peter."  
  
"One more thing?" he said, hesitating behind me.  
  
"Sure."  
  
He swallowed. "You and Detective Benson---I hope it works out. You two are very in love, a-and the commission has no business in that."  
  
I smiled. "You're too generous with words, Peter." I cuffed his shoulder. "Thanks."  
  
He nodded, quickly scampering off to another courtroom, only glancing back once to me, eyes somewhat bolder after talking to me.  
  
He disappeared quickly around a corner, the sound of his pounding footsteps fading from my earshot. But it didn't matter. There were bigger fish to fry inside the courtroom, where apparently, my final judgment rested.  
  
"Detective Stabler?" called a creaky voice. "Enter."  
  
Attempting to crush the stubbornness and pride that slowly crept up into my stomach; I strode inside, trying to ignore the biting cold that stung through my jacket and shirt. A lone chair indicated where I would sit, set in the center of a slanted beam of sunlight, shining solo in the darkened room.  
  
"Detective Stabler." Commissioner Morris stared back at me through beady- eyed glasses, contempt dripping off his worn face. "Thank you for coming."  
  
"I can't just go around not showing up," I replied. "I do have a duty as an SVU cop."  
  
"You are aware of why this hearing was called?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Commissioner Morris leaned forward, as I stared back at his mellow brown eyes with my own baby-blues. An easy smirk crossed my face, as the panel shifted uneasily in their seats. They weren't used to my bold stares yet. They were in for an unpleasant surprise for this hearing. I wasn't going to go down without a fight. I knew Olivia wouldn't settle for anything but that.  
  
"Detective Stabler---"  
  
"Call me Elliot, Commissioner. We're all friendly cops, aren't we?"  
  
Morris glanced around at his mousy peers, who nodded sheepishly and shrugged. "Very well, er, Elliot," he said. Attempting to push some kind of control over me, he crouched forward across the desk, a slim black folder cradled in his hands.  
  
"This folder contains numerous accounts of your relationship with Detective Benson. Do you deny any of these reports?"  
  
"It depends on what was stated."  
  
Morris slipped three pieces of paper out, flinging them into a neat array. "Account one, January the twentieth, year two thousand. A witness places you and Detective Benson at a neighborhood park."  
  
"Is there a crime against walking in a park?"  
  
"There is one against...engaging in improper conduct with a fellow officer." Morris seemed pleased with this fake accusation. The others beside him nodded nervously in agreement.  
  
"Were Detective Benson and I doing anything, 'improper'?"  
  
"You were holding her rather close, Detective Stabler."  
  
"Describe it to me, Commissioner. I have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
A pair of round glasses slipped from his nose. The slim wedding band bound on his left hand, exact to my own, reflected carelessly in the light of his desk lamp. "You were seen touching the lower part of Detective Benson's back. Your other hand was enclosed in her. The witness claims to have seen you later...well...engaging in..."  
  
"I was kissing her? Yes, I was. It's not that hard to say, Commissioner."  
  
"You are 'this' close to insubordination, Detective."  
  
I threw up my hands. "So charge me, already. You don't need to go into messy details."  
  
"Second account," he interrupted, stomping over my words. "June the fifth, year two thousand and two. You were seen leaving Detective Benson's downtown apartment building at exactly five-oh-ten a.m. The witness claims to have seen you haphazardly buttoning your wrinkled shirt and jacket."  
  
"What are you inciting, sir?"  
  
"The witness was lead to believe that you had engaged in sexual activities with Detective Benson, that night."  
  
"The witness 'claims'?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I suppose you wouldn't believe me, if I said that my car had broken down and Detective Benson offered me her couch, instead of waiting for a tow truck at three in the morning?"  
  
"Was that what happened?"  
  
I resisted another smirk. "No. I was just wondering if you would believe anything besides this witnessed accounts of my relationship with Olivia." I paused. "My mistake, Commissioner. I mean my partner, Detective Benson."  
  
The panel murmured among themselves. Commissioner Morris had fury sparking in his eyes.  
  
And I was the biggest bastard of all.  
  
Morris Commission Headquarters  
December 3  
One Police Plaza  
Courtroom 104  
  
Olivia POV  
  
When I first saw the panel that would determine my future as a cop, I almost burst out laughing.  
  
Two of the members were in my class at the academy. One was a teacher of mine. Three others, including the leader of this hearing, were Vice cops who hated me. The surprising ratio of men to women was uncanny, with three men and three women exactly.  
  
"Good morning, Detective Benson," boomed the ringleader, an ugly, birdlike woman with a deep voice and resonating ego. The others mumbled their greetings, as my lone chair sat in the center, below each member of the panel. They all watched me carefully, as if they expected me to lunge out and attack.  
  
I wondered how Elliot was faring, if his panel hadn't already grilled him alive.  
  
I imagined the same events rolling along at his trial. I was being asked the same questions, and was replying in the same brief, barely responsive way.  
  
"Are you aware of the several accounts present here today, stating an indecent and unseemly liaison between you and Detective Stabler?"  
  
"I wouldn't call my engagement to Detective Stabler a liaison."  
  
A few women on the panel swallowed their pride and ego in a split second. I figured that starting the hearing off with a bit of trouble wasn't in my best interest, but it didn't matter. Maybe I was screwed over enough as it was.  
  
I wish I were with Elliot.  
  
"According to a Doctor Eric Arman, you are six weeks pregnant?"  
  
I nearly fell out of my chair, stumbling over this unexpected prod into my private life. "Who interviewed my obstetrician?"  
  
Bird-woman smiled, revealing a finely disfigured mouth, in my professional opinion. "Does that set off a nerve, Detective?"  
  
I kept my mouth shut.  
  
"Do you deny this pregnancy?"  
  
"How can I?" I snapped. "You can see my stomach, can't you? I didn't gain this weight miraculously. I'm having a son, in case you asked Dr. Arman that, too." A smirk was plastered all over my face. I could picture Elliot the same way, sitting bolt right up in his chair, but smirking at his panel as well.  
  
"According to this medical record, you had already conceived twins. Where's your other child?"  
  
Now I wanted to lunge out and claw bird-woman to death. I couldn't believe she would pull that card from her sleeve. Every woman mourns the loss of a child, even if the fetus had barely survived the first few weeks. I knew now that pain. I had lost my daughter."  
  
"How do you know it's a girl?"  
  
"I just do," I replied coldly, repeating what I had been saying throughout the entire day. I couldn't explain how I knew that my dead baby was a girl, or that the live one was a boy. Call it an extremely odd case of mother's intuition  
  
"My baby girl is dead," I said, gritting my teeth. "Is there any relevant question you want to ask, ma'am?" I choked out the last word, acid dripping from my voice.  
  
"Just one. Have you been in a sexually intimate relationship with Detective Elliot Stabler, also of the Special Victims Unit, for several years?"  
  
I couldn't lie to the panel. Each person etched forward, hanging on my response. It would determine my future career as a cop. It would send to me either Heaven or Hell.  
  
It would determine the rest of my life.  
  
But I wouldn't give that bitch the satisfaction of winning, pulling my strings and making me relive the nightmare of losing my daughter.  
  
Pulling out a smirk, I sat back slowly, crossing my legs and staring boldly into their eyes. I tried to think of Elliot as I replied, hoping our futures were secure.  
  
"Yes."  
  
Special Victims Unit squad room  
December 5  
  
Elliot POV  
  
Olivia and I weren't going to cop Hell. That was a complete relief for both of us, and the entire department.  
  
For two agonizing days we waited, pretending nothing was hanging over our heads while checking out crime scenes and putting a few more freaks in jail. Olivia was on the edge between anxious and just plain crazy with worry. I wouldn't stop pacing, until John threatened to duct-tape my sorry ass to the chair.  
  
Alex managed to swing some legal maneuvers that saved us. The majority of the panels didn't give a crap whether or not Olivia and I slept together. Their votes swayed the verdict in our favor, and our only punishment was a few slaps on the wrist. Nothing on the record, thanks to Alex and Cragen.  
  
A bottle of champagne sat between our desks, waiting until later to be corked open in celebration of escaping our early retirements.  
  
We had just decided on a name for both our son, and daughter, the name that would go on the headstone today. John and Fin asked if we wanted company at the gravesite. Even Cragen offered to come. But this was something we had to do on our own, facing the death of our child just with each other.  
  
Olivia glanced up at me, her eyes nervous and skittish.  
  
"How's baby Jon?"  
  
No, we didn't name the baby after John Munch. It was an unfortunate coincidence that our son carried the same name as the cynical mug of SVU.  
  
"Kicking," muttered Olivia. "He's about as healthy as can be, thank you very much."  
  
I laughed, waiting in anticipation for the day that Jon would be strong enough to really start moving around, waiting to be born, eight months from now.  
  
"Elliot, Olivia," called Cragen, stepping in from his office. "The cemetery just called." He paused. "It's ready."  
  
Olivia froze, clutching her coffee mug absently.  
  
"We should head over, then," I said, helping her from the chair.  
  
It would be longest twenty-minute drive of our lives.  
  
Third Person POV  
  
Elliot and Olivia slowly approached the freshly turned earth. A small headstone rested solemnly before them, nine simple words carved into the cold granite.  
  
"Your sister misses you, Jonathon," said Olivia softly. "But she'll watch over you from Heaven. All three of us will be okay."  
  
Elliot rested his hand on Olivia's shoulder, as she knelt to place a single, pale pink rose before the grave. The promise of wildflowers gleamed on the grass, fresh flowers just beginning to poke through the melting snow.  
  
Olivia wanted nothing more than to remain at the grave and cry. She wanted to die and live her with dead baby girl.  
  
But the presence of Elliot beside her, and baby Jonathon within her promised other things. Of years and years of happiness and joy. Of being a family with the two most important people in her life.  
  
"Let's go home, Olivia."  
  
She nodded carefully, trying not to look back as Elliot gently led her away. She knew there was no turning back time.  
  
But hope still glimmered in her eyes.  
  
For a future that would be hers.  
  
Christine Marie Stabler  
Beloved Daughter of Olivia and Elliot  
Rest in Peace  
  
A/N: I was listening to the Chocolat soundtrack while writing most of this. Let's just say that I cried while writing. The main titles song was the theme song for this chapter, and I felt it eloquently portrayed the suffering of everyone's favorite SVU cops. I'm sorry for the nasty cliffhanger, but didn't the sequel turn out fairly nice? Don't worry; I'll try to make the next chapter a little happier. It is tentatively titled Wellwisher. It will take place about a little over a year after this chapter, with baby Jonathon already born and growing steadily. Thanks for all the great reviews—it makes my heart swell with warm fuzziness. As always, keep reviewing!  
  
Thanks,  
  
Ava  
  
Ou est-ce que tu voudrais aller, ma cherie: Where would you like to go, my dear?  
  
p.s.: as of July 7, 2004, modifications have been made to the story's mistake in Olivia's pregnancy. A baby's sex cannot be determined as early as I had originally thought and written, and as such, the storyline has been slightly altered. Thank you for pointing out my mistakes. 


	7. VII: Wellwisher

Ava Cabot  
  
Wellwisher  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: crying Please, please, please, Dick Wolf, just hook Olivia and Elliot up. It would make so many writers happy.  
  
Note: I have no clue when Olivia Benson's birthday is, so if the date is wrong, it is my own fault.  
  
I'm so tired of being here,  
Suppressed by all my childish fears.  
And if you have to leave,  
I wish that you would just leave.  
Because your presence still lingers here,  
And it won't leave me alone.  
These wounds won't seem to heal,  
This pain is just too real.  
There's just too much that time cannot erase.  
  
Evanescence: My Immortal  
  
Elizabeth Stabler POV  
  
It's odd that I haven't seen my baby half-brother until now. Apparently, Olivia gave birth months ago, and went back to work recently, part-time only though. But from the way Maureen described him, Jonathon was every bit Dad's son, with his calm temper and familiar face shape.  
  
Mom didn't work when I was a kid, unlike Olivia. She stayed at home with Dickie and me all-day, playing and coloring with us until Maureen and Kathleen came home. Then we'd eat dinner, most of the time without Dad there. It was a routine, one that didn't break until recently. She was the caretaker, while Dad brought in all the money that kept us fed, clothed, and busy. Everything was working out perfectly. I didn't see anything wrong, at first.  
  
But then again, everything changed when I found out all the lies.  
  
It ended up being Maureen that told all of us. She said that Mom and Dad were getting a divorce. That Dad had been having a more-than-friends relationship with his partner, Olivia. That Mom and Dad's marriage had been a hopeless sham since Dad had been assigned as Olivia's partner. She had replaced Mom.  
  
I was the one who took the news the hardest. I was Daddy's girl, the baby of the family. Dickie was younger than me, and that placed some responsibility on my young shoulders. I was expected to act slightly older than my young age, taking care of Dickie if it were just the two of us.  
  
But I was still the youngest girl, and that made me special. I was the most important female figure in his life, besides Mom.  
  
At least, that's what I thought for the longest time.  
  
I used to like Olivia. She was the woman in Dad's life that we never saw, like a mystery waiting to be solved, or a treasure chest to be found. Maureen had met her more than once. She told me stories about how beautiful she was. How calm and collected she could be even after seeing a victim's blood spilled out on the street. How she kept Dad from getting too emotional during every case. How perfect she was.  
  
But when Dad arrived home every night, usually past three in the morning, I could hear the shouting and angry words he had with Mom. They would fight almost every night, loud enough to almost shake the walls.  
  
It was a dark time for all of us.  
  
During the fights, Dickie and I would sneak out of our rooms, crawling into bed with Maureen, who held us until we fell asleep. As the eldest, she understood what was going on the most. She promised to protect us from everything.  
  
Olivia was beautiful, like the exotic princesses I read about in kindergarten and first grade. Princesses from faraway countries, with long dark hair and shadowy eyes. Those were my memories from my childhood. Waiting up late with Dickie for Dad to come home after dropping Olivia off at her apartment downtown before coming home to us. As a child, I wished I could have met her. Now, as a teenager, I never want to see her.  
  
Mom accused him of caring about her more than his own family. Of course he couldn't choose. To him, Olivia and us kids came first. I wasn't sure where Mom ranked anymore.  
  
Dad often smelled of her when he came into my room, kissing my forehead goodnight, thinking I was sound asleep. I still don't what perfume she wore, but the fragrance still lingers on his clothes. I know it's made of crushed flowers, still smelling sweet hours after it was sprayed on. I can smell peony, rose, freesia, lavender, and a hint of camellia. I can't stand the scent anymore. The smell just clings to him now, because they aren't ever apart.  
  
I was called into the office last month. The school psychologist somehow found out about Dad's divorce and relationship with Olivia. Apparently, her husband serves on the Morris Commission, where Dad and Olivia were grilled over and threatened. Dad never told us about that. Maybe he figured it would all be for the best if we were kept in the dark.  
  
She asked me how I felt about Dad's relationship with "Detective Benson". She asked if his "intimacy" with her made me "upset". She wanted me to rat out Dad and Olivia right there, so they could be disgracefully fired.  
  
I remember her leaning in, eyeing me for an answer.  
  
I lied, telling her I was okay with it.  
  
I don't know why I have to lie so often for Dad's sake. If he wants to screw over his career, then he and Olivia can do that. He shouldn't have had to drag the rest of us into this mess. He was almost kicked out of the police force for what he did.  
  
It's Dickie, Maureen, Kathleen, and I in this battle between Mom and Dad. We're set in No Man's Land, with Olivia. We're the territory that they dare not touch. Mom went after Olivia a while ago, and ended up in Bellevue for about a week. Olivia never pressed charges, so Mom was a free woman. Dad never forgot though.  
  
And now that Olivia's given birth to his new child, he'll forget us too.  
  
Special Victims Unit stationhouse  
April 12  
  
"Come on, Olivia, just eat a bite."  
  
"I can't, for the last time. I want to feed Jonathon with a healthy body. Not one filled with too much sugar and caffeine."  
  
John set his plate of cake down, and took the plate that Olivia refused. Dickie grabbed it eagerly, throwing his now-cleared second plate in the garbage. Dad watched him with slight interest. Dickie was happy, no doubt, and would be bouncing off the walls soon, with all that sugar he was eating.  
  
"Ood Ake," he said, sticking his cake-filled tongue out at me.  
  
"Oh God, that's gross," I muttered, spinning to the opposite side in Dad's chair.  
  
"Dickie," warned Dad.  
  
"He's just being a kid," said Fin, draining coffee from the pot. "Let him be, Elliot."  
  
John, clearly disappointed that he couldn't tempt Olivia any further, shook his head and eyed my new stepbrother, who just stared back with Olivia's dark brown eyes.  
  
I wondered where Maureen and Kathleen were. They were supposed to have been here two hours ago, partying and wasting time with the rest of Dad's SVU friends.  
  
I couldn't get over how much Jon looked like Olivia. It was as if he wasn't even Dad's kid. Maureen had lied when she described him to me. He had Olivia's same round face, same dark hair, and same dark eyes, cornered with shadows even as an innocent baby. He looked back at the world through darkness, just like his mother. He was nothing like Dad, who brought light and happiness into the room. Olivia was dark and murky; the complete opposite.  
  
I both hated and loved Olivia. I loved how she made Dad happy. Mom just argued with him so much, that eventually, even I wanted them to divorce. Olivia was beautiful and radiant, and it was comforting to know that Dad married a possible model.  
  
But I hated how beautiful she was. Mom was a typical New York girl, with long blonde hair and bouncy eyes. Olivia was dark and torturing, making men stare at her for long hours on end, loving the way their gazes lingered. She was the Devil to Mom's angelic presence.  
  
My new stepmother had taken over Dad's life. Was I doomed like Cinderella? Would Olivia be my cruel stepmother?  
  
"Lizzy," said Dickie softly, kicking my chair gently. "You okay?" He swallowed quickly, the last bit of cake traveling down his throat. "You really spaced out there."  
  
I shrugged. "I'm just wondering where Kathleen and Maureen are, that's all."  
  
"They're probably just late," said Olivia, shifting Jon on her leg. "High school and college kids don't want to hang around a precinct all day."  
  
I stared at Olivia. "Maybe there was traffic."  
  
"Maybe." She paused. "Do you want to call them?"  
  
I shuffled my feet underneath the desk. "No."  
  
Dad glanced at the two of us. Dickie, showing off his new video game, had engrossed Munch and Fin into an hours-long lecture on the battle techniques of 1000 Corpses: Search and Destroy. I could hear electronic zombie screams vibrating from the miniscule speakers of his Game boy.  
  
Olivia nodded, shifting her weight to support my sleepy stepbrother. He stared at me from his dreamy brown eyes, seeming to know countless things about me, my lie of a life, and my hatred of his mother.  
  
I didn't know why I hated Olivia so much. After all, she made Dad happy. Shouldn't that make me happy too? I had a father who had finally found true love, just like in the fairy tales. He was going to live happily ever after with his new bride and new family.  
  
What would happen to his old family, though? Would he just dump us and forget that we ever existed?  
  
"Lizzy," said Dad, tapping my shoulder. "You okay?"  
  
I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I'm fine." I was surprised he couldn't see through my pathetic lie. He would have to be blind to see that I wasn't okay. "No, I'm not okay!" I felt like screaming. "I'm sick of all your lies. I hate Olivia and that baby. You're my Dad, not some new baby's!"  
  
The stationhouse was silent. Dickie dropped his Game boy, staring at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.  
  
"Lizzy," he said softly. "What did you say?"  
  
"Oh my God," I whispered, clambering out of Dad's chair. "I didn't---I couldn't have---I wouldn't---I wasn't serious---"  
  
Dad's eyes clouded over for a moment; with anger or remorse, I couldn't tell. Olivia stopped playing with Jon, passing him down to Munch, who carried the little brat away.  
  
"Liz," she started.  
  
"Elizabeth," I snapped. "Don't call me Liz."  
  
She stopped, taking care for what her next words were going to be. "I know you're angry at me, but if you'll just say why---"  
  
"I shouldn't have to say why," I cried, my voice rising higher and higher. I took loud, gulping breaths between choked-back tears. "You made Mom so unhappy, keeping Dad all to yourself. He had a family, and you ruined everything. I hate you. I hate you!"  
  
That was when the chair toppled to the ground. I could see the swinging doors---so close---as my escape route. I ran, light as the wind, and threw the doors open. I could hear Dickie and Fin shouting for me to stop. Upstairs, I heard Jon begin to cry.  
  
But what hurt the most was that Dad wasn't coming after me; it was Olivia.  
  
I don't remember how I ended up at the graveyard. Maybe because it was the closest thing I could run into, with Olivia still tracking me. I could hear her breathing, stopping briefly to call Dad and check in. He was downtown, checking in with my friends.  
  
As if they'd rat me out.  
  
Olivia's voice was worn with fatigue. Deep down, I knew it was wrong to make her chase me. She was still probably exhausted from being pregnant, and was weak from feeding Jon. She wasn't up to par with Dad and the rest of the team. That was probably why she was still on desk duty, resting until she was strong enough to go back to regular work.  
  
I didn't realize the selfish extent of my words until I stumbled over a small gravestone, skinning my knee and falling backwards into the ground. Underneath me, a small bouquet of camellias and roses crunched from my weight. Cursing under my breath, I hit the stone, faintly hearing my knuckles crack.  
  
"Stupid grave," I muttered.  
  
Clambering around the cold granite, I scanned the engraving slowly.  
  
Cold sweat slid down the back of my neck as I murmured the name. It couldn't be---Dad would have told me if there had been---another child--- but how?  
  
"Christine Marie Stabler. Beloved daughter of Olivia and Elliot. Rest in peace."  
  
Why didn't they tell me there was a daughter?  
  
"You know."  
  
Sweaty blonde hairs caught in my eyes as I whirled around, Olivia standing unsteadily a few feet behind me. Leaves crunched underneath her shoes as she came closer, eyeing the broken bouquet behind me.  
  
"It's kind of strange that I'm back," she said, crossing her arms. She knelt beside me, fixing the flowers and stems neatly. "I was here this morning with your Dad and Jonathon. I thought I should leave a bouquet for Christine. It was my birthday, after all. I wish she had been there, too." Her smile was sad. "You would have liked her. She might have had your father's eyes."  
  
"Why didn't Dad say anything?" I asked stubbornly. I knew I was a horrible person to bring these painful memories up for Olivia. Her eyes misted over, a lone tear riding down her cheek.  
  
"He didn't want to cause anymore pain."  
  
"Pain? Knowing that I had another sister would have caused me pain?"  
  
"Not you," she snapped, surprising me. I took a hesitant step back, watching warily as she turned to face my trembling body. "I know you hate me for taking your father away. But if you could just understand all of what happened, maybe you'd understand." She paused. "He didn't want me to remember about the miscarriage. It was my child."  
  
"You two didn't think of anyone else besides yourselves."  
  
"The only people we thought of were you, and Dickie, Kathleen, and Maureen. We kept everything a secret so you wouldn't have to know. Would you have wanted to be aware, at eight years old, that your father was having an affair with me?"  
  
"Since I was eight?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So since you two became partners."  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Why what?"  
  
I sat on the cold ground, a slight breeze blowing through my coat. "Why Dad?"  
  
She smiled, this time warmly. She sat beside me, and though uninvited, I subconsciously welcomed the company. "Your Dad is the man I fell in love with. I can't really explain why, but it just happened." Light filtered through her eyes. "Could you explain why you fell in love with someone?"  
  
I bit my tongue. "No." I couldn't lie this time.  
  
"I thought so," she said, taking off her scarf and handing it to me. Reluctantly, I wrapped the warm length of velvet and wool around my neck. Her face flushed in the surprisingly cold weather.  
  
"Thanks," I said, hugging my knees and avoiding her eyes, flickering shadows between shafts of light that darted in and out. I could see how Dad lost himself in her. Staring into her eyes meant being hopelessly astray, seemingly fathomless with darkness. She seemed to know everything about me with just one glance. All my lies were unraveling before my feet.  
  
"What I said back at the stationhouse---I didn't mean it." It was time to start making amends. I had made Olivia suffer enough with my stubbornness. I couldn't cause her any more pain for my sake.  
  
"I know."  
  
"You do?" How did she know that I was truly, absolutely, and sincerely sorry?  
  
"You have every right to be angry at me."  
  
"I do?"  
  
She grinned. "You got to understand where your Dad and I stand, though."  
  
"Fair enough."  
  
"We aren't going to split up."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Jonathon isn't just going to disappear."  
  
"I'd like another brother. Dickie's too annoying."  
  
"We love you, Elizabeth."  
  
I swallowed quietly. "Okay," I said softly. I lay my hand out, wanting her to shake and make the deal happen. "You win."  
  
She pushed my hand away, pulling me towards her in a loose embrace.  
  
I could smell her flower perfume.  
  
"Your Dad never stopped caring for any of you kids once he met me. He kept everything secret to protect, not hurt."  
  
I sniffed, trying to hold back my betraying tears. "It wasn't fair how they just divorced. Mom just packed us up and said that Dad wasn't coming home anymore." I looked up at her. "She said that he was with you."  
  
Olivia snorted. "He probably was. On a case, mind you."  
  
"I guess so."  
  
"Come on, Elizabeth."  
  
I looked at her. "Lizzy. Not Liz, and not Elizabeth."  
  
"You sure that's okay?"  
  
I nodded. "Yeah."  
  
I watched her smile at me, eyes glowing with hope.  
  
It was going to be okay, from now on.  
  
A/N: hmmmm, not as angsty as usual, but I think it had a rather original POV. So far, I haven't seen any SVU fic in Elizabeth Stabler's point of view. I tried to look at Olivia and Elliot's relationship through a fourteen year old's eyes, one of adolescent anger and resentment. Did I do a good job? I'd hope so. Tell me through reviews---but remember, no flames. Here are some spoilers for the eighth chapter, retitled from Broken Soul to Pride. Casey and Olivia POV. Enjoy.  
  
Next time, in Chapter Eight: Pride...  
  
Casey POV  
  
I don't remember the last time I cried seriously. Maybe it was when I finished my first case, and saw the nearly dead little girl staring at me with haunted eyes. Or maybe it was the picture of Alexandra Cabot, my predecessor, who glared at me from the desk of John Munch, who still clings to the belief that she'll return, even though it's been almost a year, and she's long dead.  
  
Or it's just the angry eyes of Olivia and Elliot that steal my nights away now. I can't ignore their eyes anymore. I see the way they look at me. They hate me for replacing Cabot. There's something behind her story. Everyone claims she's dead, but I don't believe lies.  
  
Blindly I started kicking. "Someone help me!" I screamed. "A man's trying to attack me!"  
  
"Let me go," I begged.  
  
Woefully, I saw another street light die out.  
  
I knew no one was coming for me.  
  
Olivia POV  
  
Three rings went by before someone picked up.  
  
And that was when I heard screams.  
  
Go review!!  
  
Bisous, Ava 


	8. VIII: Pride

Ava Cabot  
  
Pride  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: Of course I don't anything. I wish. And I don't know if the intersection of 12th and Washington really exists in New York. All errors are my own.  
  
Call my name  
  
And save me from the dark.  
Bid my blood to run,  
Before I come undone.  
Save from me from the nothing I've become.  
  
Now that I know what I'm without  
  
You can't just leave me, breathe into me  
And make me real.  
Bring me to life.  
  
Evanescence: Bring Me To Life  
  
Casey Novak POV  
  
Many nights ago, when I wasn't an ADA for the Special Victims Unit, I dreamed dreamless dreams. That thought seems terribly redundant now, since now I see dead bodies in my sleep.  
  
I don't remember the last time I cried seriously. Maybe it was when I finished my first case, and saw the nearly dead little girl staring at me with haunted eyes. Or maybe it was the picture of Alexandra Cabot, my predecessor, who glared at me from the desk of John Munch, who still clings to the belief that she'll return, even though it's been almost a year, and she's supposedly long dead.  
  
Or it's just the angry eyes of Olivia and Elliot that steal my nights away now. I can't ignore their eyes anymore. I see the way they look at me. They hate me for replacing Cabot. But there's something behind her story. Everyone claims she's dead, but I don't believe lies.  
  
Alexandra Cabot is out there, somewhere, biding her time to return.  
  
She was on my mind when my front tire blew out tonight. Just by staring at her pictures around the SVU office, I already knew more about her than I would prefer.  
  
Alexandra was in her early thirties, around the same age as Detective Benson. She had fine honey-blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, seeming to see into my very soul and more. Her smile was faint, hinting very slightly at happiness. She was intelligent, witty, and beautiful. Detective Munch kindly conveyed all this to me late one night, as I sat staring at the photo, mesmerized by a woman that everyone believed was dead, except me.  
  
"Shit," I muttered, pulling over to the side of the road. A yellow request- for-assistance phone sat nearly two feet away. I would be home within the one a.m. range, should I be so lucky.  
  
It wasn't fair how everyone in SVU treated me like an outsider. I had been a lawyer for just as long as that Cabot woman, just not an ADA. Maybe I hadn't been the Special Victims Unit ADA for four years, but I was still perfectly competent and capable of doing just as good of a job.  
  
I wasn't Alexandra Cabot, though, and this made me the loner.  
  
I contemplated this while dialing for assistance. Leave it to me to blow out a tire at midnight. With my luck, a tow truck would be there within an hour. It didn't matter, though. I could disappear off the face of the Earth, and I doubt the SVU detectives would care.  
  
I didn't hear the other car pull up beside me. I did hear the pounding footsteps, though, as they came closer and closer to the phone booth. I clenched my fists together. Maybe they would just go away.  
  
"Need some help, miss?" he asked, tapping my shoulder with a dirty finger.  
  
I cringed slightly, hanging up the phone, and tried to smile. "No. Thank you, though."  
  
A scar of a tattoo lined his broken face, marred with cuts and wrinkles. Mussed dark hair framed his round face, and dark eyes glittered with a strange twinkle underneath a set of short lashes.  
  
If he attacked me, there would be no problem giving a description.  
  
"Excuse me," I said, pushing past him.  
  
His hand, cold from the New York night, grabbed my pale wrist. "Let me help."  
  
"Let go of my arm."  
  
"I just wanna help."  
  
"You can by leaving me alone."  
  
Both my wrists were in his hands now. "Don't make this hard." His voice was slurred. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, stale and dizzying.  
  
"Let go. Now." I dug my heel into his foot, and he yelped, swearing loudly.  
  
"Bitch!" he screamed, throwing a heavy punch at my face.  
  
I ducked narrowly, running to my car. He recovered quickly for a drunk, and reached out for my ankle, grabbing it and knocking me down. I tasted salty blood in mouth, as concrete met my face.  
  
Blindly I started kicking. "Someone help me!" I screamed. "A man's trying to attack me!"  
  
"Shut up," he growled, pulling me towards him.  
  
"Someone! Damn it, help—"  
  
"Shut up!" he shouted, finally cuffing his hand over my mouth. A shining knife glittered against the streetlamp. "One word, and I'll slit your fucking throat."  
  
I couldn't talk or breathe now. He pulled me up, grabbing my keys and throwing them at my car. The car alarm sounded off, but he ignored it, pulling my shaking body towards the alley.  
  
I thrust my elbow back, hitting his chest, and then groin. My nails, sharp as a cat's, dug into his face. I wasn't getting raped. I wouldn't get raped. Damn it, I was fighting back.  
  
"You fucking bitch," he cried, a whoosh of air escaping from his lungs. I heard him groan and shout as I clawed his face from in front, reaching and pulling for anything I could find.  
  
He reached around from the back, grabbing my waist and holding me tight. The knife flickered briefly, before he sliced one wrist.  
  
"Oh God," I moaned, seeing a fresh course of blood trickle onto the ground, dripping off my navy skirt.  
  
"Let me go," I begged. Maybe if I begged for my freaking life, he would let me go. "I'll give you anything---money, my keys---just don't hurt me."  
  
"Shut up," he hissed, throwing me against the alley wall. By now, the street was at least three yards away. Woefully, I saw another street light die out.  
  
I knew no one was coming for me.  
  
And I watched him tear my blouse off.  
  
Olivia POV  
  
Babies rarely sleep, as I soon found out after Jonathon was born.  
  
Elliot had told me horror stories from when all four of kids were babies, about how they would cry into the night and sleep for only two hours, before they awoke and cried for the rest of the day.  
  
It wasn't so bad for me. I took care of Jonathon during the day, working up in the Crib while Elliot and Cragen took care of the assignments. Munch and Fin helped, keeping him entertained while I napped for a few hours. Often I was still exhausted when Fin woke me up, saying that Jonathon was hungry, or he needed to be changed, or he just wouldn't stop crying for me.  
  
Being exhausted never bothered me. I was used to pulling ungodly hours long into the night. Feeding a growing baby was what made me even more tired. I felt as if all the vitamins and nutrients I ate were just sucked out when Jonathon needed to be fed.  
  
Everyone was understanding. They knew it would have been impossible for me to stay at home all the time. Elliot and Cragen didn't mind being temporarily partnered up. At least all the cold cases were getting filed on time, with me filing and typing all day. That way, I could stay with my son and still work decently. It seemed like a good plan.  
  
The clock in Cragen's office chimed twelve times, signaling the start of another long night. Downstairs, Munch, Fin, and Elliot sat slumped over their desks, absently writing and yawning aimlessly. The room was so silent, that I could hear Cragen tapping his pencil in anxiety.  
  
One of our cases had no leads, and the three rape vics we had could offer no help.  
  
They didn't see their rapists face well enough to give a description.  
  
It was all the same. They were young women, in their late twenties or early thirties, all with dark red hair. Their cars had broken down, and a seemingly Good Samiritan had pulled over and offered some assistance. He was often drunk, and when the women tried to get away, he pulled them off the street and raped them.  
  
This case was literally eating away at all of us, as many cases with few leads did. We were trying to pull something out of nothing. Casey was being difficult, having still barely broken into being our replacement ADA.  
  
Sometimes I catch John looking at her aimlessly. He tries to imagine what Alex would be doing in Casey's place. If Casey's decisions would be different than hers. What Alex would do instead. In his mind, it was all about Alex and nothing else.  
  
The lastest incidence had happened three days ago.  
  
"Where the hell is Novak?" called Cragen, breaking his pencil in half. "Wasn't she supposed to drop by and pick up the files on this damn case?"  
  
"She called about an hour ago, Cap," muttered Fin. "Said she would come by in the morning instead."  
  
"I don't give a damn if she had other plans. Call her damn cell phone and get her ass down here."  
  
"I'll do it," I said softly, reaching over Jonathon's sleeping body and grabbing my cell phone.  
  
"Thanks, Olivia." Cragen glanced out from his doorway, his stern features softening ever slightly when he saw my worn face smiling back at her.  
  
"No problem," I replied, already dialing her number. I wondered where Casey would be at midnight on a Thursday night. But it didn't matter, really. When duty called, nothing was more important.  
  
Three rings went by before someone picked up.  
  
And that was when I heard screams.  
  
Casey POV  
  
I was freezing when my cell phone rang. I didn't remember having it on, but then again, now I was thankful that someone was trying to check on me.  
  
"Pick it up," he demanded, throwing the phone at me.  
  
Shivering, I grabbed my torn shirt, hugging as I pressed the green receive button. "Hello?" I whispered.  
  
"Casey?"  
  
Oh God, it was Olivia calling from the squadroom.  
  
The man stared at me. I wasn't stupid enough to answer my phone and risk rising his fury level.  
  
But then again, I was terrified and wanted desperately to be saved.  
  
"Olivia, you gotta help me!"  
  
"Casey? Where are you?"  
  
"Shut up, you fucking bitch!" he screamed, yanking my phone away.  
  
"I'm at 12th and Washington!"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Someone's raping me!"  
  
"Casey!"  
  
"Olivia!"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
My phone went sailing against the wall, shattering into three neat pieces.  
  
"That'll be your body if anyone calls back."  
  
I nodded, shivering underneath the shredded remains of my blouse. "I doubt it'll happen again. You decimated my cell phone. And in case I receive any telepathic messages, I don't think you'll---"  
  
"Shut up! Don't you ever just shut up!" He threw his hand across my face. A burning, numbing sensation crept through my muscles, as they relaxed into oblivion. Darkness was taking over me. The slashes from my wrists must have leaked enough blood for me to consciously disappear. Thank God for some miracles. Maybe now, I'd be out of it while he hit me.  
  
Bruises burned blue, black, and purple across my battered body. I didn't even want to know what else he did to me. My body was a mess, and I desperately wanted EMS, SVU, or anyone to show up and save me.  
  
I must have been going insane. I could faintly hear sirens. Did Olivia call? They must have. No one hated me that much. They were coming—someone was coming!  
  
"Cops," he muttered, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a dirty black marker. He spit on my bare, freezing stomach, as I winced away from his grin. "Now just to leave my mark, and I'll be outta here."  
  
He grabbed me roughly again, viciously carving letters onto my skin, milky- white in the faded streetlight. An unmarked sedan---Olivia and Elliot--- burned tire rubber at the street. I could hear the ambulances coming. Olivia's pounding footsteps became louder, as my attacker threw the marker at me and ran.  
  
"He's over there," I croaked, aimlessly lifting up my arm. Covering myself up was my main priority now. I didn't want them to see me beaten, raped, and on top of everything else, half-naked.  
  
It seemed like a stupid worry, later.  
  
But here in the now, with Elliot in hot pursuit of my rapist, I just wanted to go. Anywhere. It didn't matter. The hospital, my apartment, even the SVU squadroom would be a better place than this filthy alley.  
  
A series of shouts and tumbles further down the alley told me that Elliot had tackled him. EMS officials dressed in almost blinding white uniforms threw blankets over me, and said I was going to be okay. Olivia's eyes bore into mine. But I didn't see anger in them.  
  
It was regret.  
  
"You okay, Casey?" she said softly.  
  
I would have responded to her. Except then, blessed darkness took me.  
  
I was safe at last.  
  
St. Catherine's Hospital  
Room 511 B  
  
"We should do this now, Casey, while you're memory is still fresh. Jason Cray isn't going anywhere, remember? He can't hurt you."  
  
"I know that, Olivia," I said, my voice edgily snappy. "I've heard you talk to victims for awhile now. I know the drill." My eyes drifted to the privacy curtain. "I just never imagined I'd be one."  
  
"No one ever does."  
  
"Don't you?"  
  
"Don't I what?"  
  
"Wonder if every man you see on the street will rape you or someone else."  
  
"Sometimes, yes. I think I've been in SVU too long. I can almost tell if a man we catch is innocent or not." She carefully sat on the edge of my bed. "Usually, they look guilty."  
  
"Just by looking in their eyes, huh? It's that simple for all of you?"  
  
"We've been there a long time."  
  
"Yeah, and I haven't. I'm just the newbie, right?"  
  
Olivia hesitated before answering. "No. Casey, you have to understand—"  
  
"I understand, Olivia. The only problem with me is that I'm not Alex Cabot, right?"  
  
"That's not true."  
  
Elliot, Fin, and Munch entered from the darkened doorway. All of them were watching me.  
  
"Did you take her statement?" asked Munch, pushing his glasses up. "She can rest after we leave, and that should be soon."  
  
"I'm not going to sleep for awhile, John."  
  
"I can see that. You're just a bundle of energy, aren't you Novak?"  
  
"I'm not more energetic than Alex."  
  
His hand, hovering above my status chart, dropped. We all watched him walk back carefully, stumbling into the white plastic chair adjacent to my bed. My words did hurt---but I was hurting more.  
  
"Don't say her name," said Fin gently. "It hurts an old man like Munch to hear the name of his deceased."  
  
"So now Alex belongs to him?"  
  
"They were in love."  
  
"Were is a past tense."  
  
"I think we're done here," announced Elliot, silencing Fin with one stern glare. "Casey's upset, and probably just needs to rest. We'll take her statement tomorrow."  
  
Olivia nodded, knowing she would be the one appointed to the task. Fin cast a final glare at me before stomping out, crossing his arms and waiting outside.  
  
"We should go," said Olivia softly, taking Elliot's hand in hers. "It's getting late, and like you said, she should rest."  
  
"I'll see you all tomorrow, then," I said, drawing the thin coverlet around me.  
  
"Just me and Olivia," replied Elliot, already half-way out the door. "Rest up, Casey, and we'll talk about the rape kit tomorrow."  
  
I saw their retreating figures exit through the narrow door, not even waiting for John to heave his old and broken body out of the chair.  
  
"Are you planning to stare at me all night?" I asked, looking at him.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then what is it you want?"  
  
"The truth."  
  
"What truth?"  
  
"Do you hate us?"  
  
"Hate you? Me?" My tone was acidly sarcastic. Of course I hated them. Everyone of the SVU detectives treated me like dirt since my first day. I was more hands-on then they were used to, but that's just how I handled my cases. I was no Alex Cabot, and they had to accept that she wasn't coming back.  
  
I didn't believe she was dead.  
  
"She's not dead, you know."  
  
"What?" My statement startled him somehow. The cool, cynical exterior he had been milking since my first day instantly vanished. Now I saw the internal John Munch, a man who just wanted to find the woman he loved. He didn't want to believe she was dead. He wouldn't believe it until he saw the body.  
  
"Did someone send you a vision?" His voice, weakly contemptuous, showed shades of worry.  
  
"No. I just don't think she's dead, that's all."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"There isn't a body in her coffin. Olivia and Elliot were with her the night she died, and even though they swear she's dead, I can tell that they're lying. I've seen enough liars in my life to tell the difference between honesty and fallacy."  
  
"Have you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He rose slowly, cracking his knuckles as a distracting thought. "You really think she's out there?"  
  
"I read her case file. She was attacked by Columbian drug lords. One is dead. But the other, Cesar Valez, is on the run. Maybe Alex is in the Witness Protection Program. You never know."  
  
"Seems too far-fetched."  
  
"Is it?"  
  
He paused. "I just want to have her back."  
  
John Munch was a man broken with heartache. My body, enclosed in a scathing, numbing cocoon loosened, and I tumbled out. I felt remorse for everything I had just said minutes ago to Olivia, Elliot, and Fin. But they weren't there to hear my sudden apology. Only John was—but that was what mattered most. Alex mattered to him the most.  
  
"Patience, Mr. Munch. She'll come back to you someday. Maybe not tomorrow, or the week after, or even in a year. But she will be back. Cesar Valez can't run forever, and they can't keep her cooped up in a new identity until the end of time."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"No. But is anyone ever really sure about anything?"  
  
He cracked a small smile. "Don't get all philosophical on me, Novak."  
  
"Casey, John. Not Novak, not ADA Novak, just Casey."  
  
"Fine, Casey. I'll take your half-baked advice, and wait for Alex to come home to me."  
  
"She will."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "You're so convincing, that I think I will believe you."  
  
"That's good."  
  
"Rest up. Olivia and Elliot aren't fun when low on sleep."  
  
"Especially when their baby keeps them up half the night."  
  
"Thus the reason I never had offspring."  
  
"Good night, John."  
  
"Night, Casey."  
  
The door closed silently behind him. The IV hooked up to pump in blood to replace all I had lost was long done, and I was alone, in a silent hospital room. My cuts were healing and covered in antiseptic. All the bruises were turning green; a sure sign that they would be gone soon. I was injured, battered, and completely traumatized, but the road to recovery was looking good.  
  
I didn't see what my attacker—Jason—had carved on me until I was admitted to the hospital. Across my cut belly, he scrawled, "Pride." I had no idea why he had written that. Maybe he knew the sins of my prideful past. Maybe he knew how I never took crap from anyone, no matter how important they were. Whatever the reason, he was now sitting in Rikers, awaiting the trial where I would prosecute him myself. I would find justice and put this piece of my life into full circle.  
  
And maybe John could put everything into order too. For both his sake and Alex's, when she returned.  
  
I won't deny that I'm too bold or overly audacious in some cases. My sense of pride may have cost me my honor tonight, but I would soon set everything straight.  
  
Sometimes, my pride can cause my downfall.  
  
A/N: so, what did you all think? I'm expecting CONSTRUCTIVE reviews from everyone, okay? It's been a great run, and I'm sad to close this fic up with one more chapter, with the return of Alex Cabot to New York. Help me reach my goal of 100 reviews at the end of chapter nine. I'll keep posting good O/E angst if you do...  
  
Bisous,  
  
Ava 


	9. IX: Don't Look At Me

Ava Cabot  
  
Don't Look At Me  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: I will own Olivia and Elliot someday. Really.  
  
I'm your mind giving you,  
Someone to talk to.  
If I smile and don't believe,  
Soon I know I'll wake up from this dream,  
Don't try to fix me,  
I'm not broken.  
I'm the lie living for you,  
So you can hide,  
Don't cry.  
  
Evanescence: Hello  
  
They named me Kate after the character in Taming of the Shrew. Almost all the officers assigned to keep me safe and my mouth shut hated me. I was disrespectful and obnoxious at times, taking out my rage on them, for not being to return home. They knew I was a powerful ADA, and wanted serious revenge on my attempted killer.  
  
But then again, they knew I couldn't do anything to get out of the program until Cesar Valez was found.  
  
I didn't expect to ever return to New York. I didn't expect any of the SVU squad to wait around for me, either.  
  
Well, except maybe for John. Seeing his cynical smile again would be nice.  
  
I spent many nights blaming Valez, Cragen, and even myself for being stuck in the Witness Protection program. In the small apartment they put me up in, I often cried myself to sleep. I kept a picture of all the SVU detectives by my bed; one of the only keepsakes I was allowed to keep of my old life, as Alex Cabot.  
  
I had been Kate Rogers for so long, that when my fateful call came, I nearly fell out of my chair, when the caller addressed me as Alexandra Cabot. I hadn't been called ADA Cabot for so long, that the name was almost foreign to me.  
  
I had almost forgotten who I was.  
  
"Alexandra Cabot, you are hereby recalled by the Federal Witness Protection Program to New York City. You are no longer in immediate danger from Cesar Valez, who has been apprehended and is currently in the custody of the Special Victims Unit. Please contact your protection officer immediately. You are free to go."  
  
I felt like a prisoner released from Rikers or Bellevue. The light at the end of my long, deranged two-year tunnel has been sighted.  
  
But what would happen when I returned?  
  
Could I pick up the pieces of where I left off? Was my ADA position filled? I had heard rumors that Casey Novak had been gaining ground around the courtroom and was looking for an ADA position. For all I know, she could be sitting in my office when I came back. I didn't want that to happen.  
  
Change was never something I was overly fond of. Whenever something changed, there always seemed to be a negative edge to it.  
  
My parents were the reason I hated changes. They were also the reason I vowed never get married, never less fall in love. Their marriage was a rocky one, and I remember hiding in my bed as a child, crying, and wishing all their fights would go away.  
  
Mother left when I was fifteen. It tore my father's psyche up terribly, and I don't believe he ever recovered. The woman he remarried was so unlike my mother that I think he married my stepmother out of spite. She was small, meek, and never said a word without permission. Mother was tall, somewhat obnoxious, and often questioned my father without his consent. Their marriage made me hate the idea of holy matrimony. I swore to myself I would never marry.  
  
True love was another thing I never believed in until I met John. I was raised to be a realist and not a dreamer. My parents told me that wishing was a waste of time. What you were given in life was what you had to work with. There were no shortcuts or advantages one could take. True love was something that wasn't calculated into my precious life plan, made at age fifteen. I was determined to be one of New York's finest lawyers, and eventually work my way up to becoming a District Attorney. I was almost there too, with my position of Assistant District Attorney secured for a number of years.  
  
John had been married multiple times, all to beautiful, albeit spoiled women. They were more like girls, with their amounts of dizzying wealth and selfish antics. Marriages with John were doomed to never last long. He was a melancholic, with a certain acerbic wit and charm that drove all women on the planet away from him.  
  
With the exception of me, of course.  
  
My first case with SVU was a good start. It didn't take as long as I had expected for the detectives and their captain to trust me. The revolving set of ADAs had thrown them all off course, but with me in position; the bureau could begin a mainstream course to success.  
  
I suppose that despite my rigid upbringing, I still retained slightly girlish dreams that I secretly hoped to accomplish. I wanted to have a small but lavish wedding and marry a successful man, one who was my intellectual equal. I wouldn't marry below my own cleverness. To do so was almost idiotic.  
  
I regretted never truly telling John how I felt. We dated often, but never moved into any so serious that marriage was an issue. Keeping our relationship a secret was key.  
  
I bonded over many drinks with Olivia during those long years. Both of us were women hiding our romantic relationships. Both of us couldn't risk our jobs. We were foolish enough to be involved with men that we worked with on a daily basis. She had Elliot, the strong, handsome detective wrapped with her in a sort of twisted love affair. I had John, whose scathing charisma never ceased to fascinate me.  
  
The last time I had seen Olivia was one month after her trial with the Morris Commission. She wasn't even showing, with that belly of hers set to grow and grow for the next nine months.  
  
She asked me about John one night. It was late and we should have left already. The question, as she later told me, had been filed at the back of her mind for some time. Ever since I had been appointed as the ADA for their department, the sense of a permanent attorney dedicated to sex crimes all day frazzled everyone. I wasn't one of their revolving lawyers---I was there to stay.  
  
For the longest time, I had been taught never to be so un-assuming about the world. Nothing would ever be handed to me on a silver platter. There is no such thing as a free lunch. You have to work your ass off just to get fairly far in the world. All pieces of advice I listened to until recently.  
  
It was as if I didn't know who I was anymore. I had been Kate Rogers for so long, that my sense of identity as Alex Cabot was almost gone. I was a legal secretary, placed at the bottom of the food chain of justice. I don't even know if I remember how to be an ADA anymore. I felt like my life in New York was a long lost memory. Riding a dusty bicycle hidden in the garage for two years, uneasy and full of distrust.  
  
I wasn't sure whom I had on my side anymore. I didn't know whether SVU had just forgotten about me, and I would be an unwelcome surprise back. Maybe they had already found a permanent ADA who wouldn't put them in danger. No one would have to look after them. Everything could move on with their lives and forget I even existed.  
  
Inside my briefcase, the only reminders of who I once was sat a picture of all four detectives and a fairly irate Cragen. Olivia and Elliot, in a moment of rare goofiness, had shoved me into John's arms, where he awkwardly caught me and smiled slyly. Fin stood in the background, scratching his chin suavely and looking at Cragen out of the corner of his eye. Cragen held his hand over his face, blocking out the lightning-bright flash bulb.  
  
My heart began to twist. I had mixed feelings about my splashy, shocking homecoming visit back to New York. My first appearance would be in court, where the prosecuting ADA would call me in as the star witness against Cesar Valez. I would both meet my replacement and shock the shit out of the SVU detectives.  
  
Smiling slightly, I couldn't think of any other way I'd want it.  
  
Trial part 25  
Tuesday, May 11  
8:00 a.m.  
  
"Mr. Valez, do you remember a woman named Alexandra Cabot?"  
  
Upon arriving to the courtroom, I hadn't expected to meet Casey Novak there. She was a fairly well known attorney in the homicide area, her loss ratio balanced with her win average. Tall, red-haired, and a softball fanatic, she was one of the last people I would have suspected to replace me. She was just as surprised, as she later told me, to be appointed to SVU.  
  
She also didn't believe I had ever died, also.  
  
Casey was a good woman, but I still longed to see the old, familiar faces of my friends. According to her, the department was functioning fairly well, but lacked the former at-ease between ADA and detective that had been there with me in place. She admitted how she, Olivia and Elliot remained on tense terms with each other.  
  
From inside my special "holding room", I could hear the collective gasp of the courtroom. I could hear Olivia, Elliot, Fin, and especially John. This trial was more than high-priority to them.  
  
Valez coughed on the stand. "N-No. Who is she?"  
  
A wicked grin spread across my face. He still thought I was dead. He would dead soon too, after being convicted of perjury for that statement.  
  
Casey's heels stopped clicking on the floor. "Mr. Valez, do you realize that your statement is blatant perjury?"  
  
"Objection, Your Honor!"  
  
"Counsel approach." I winced after hearing the voice of Judge Petrovsky. I wondered if she had personally requested my case, after nursing a vendetta against me ever since an illegal search I made.  
  
There were murmurs across the courtroom. I could hear Olivia whispering angrily to Elliot. I knew John was glaring at Valez. There were just some connections to him that couldn't be broken with time.  
  
Petrovsky slammed her gavel down, knocking me out painfully from my brief reverie.  
  
"I find the defendant guilty of perjury." Her face was full of pure venom, directed at the defense attorney. He was pale and shaky, clearly knowing that his case was completely lost. "Escort Mr. Valez out, now."  
  
Casey was apparently satisfied. Valez began cursing heavily in Spanish, as the court officers seized both his hands, cuffing them.  
  
"Next witness, Ms. Novak." Immediately her tone had switched from angry to interested. She knew I was coming in.  
  
Casey's footsteps echoed towards the back of the room, past the jury and court witnesses. I stood outside, my entire body charged with adrenaline.  
  
"The People call Alexandra Cabot to the stand."  
  
The doors swung open, and the dim court lighting became visible. The room was silent as I walked in, a dead woman among the living. A strangled cry escaped from Olivia's throat.  
  
"You bitch!"  
  
Valez began swinging at the officers as he left the courtroom. "You're supposed to be dead! Dead!"  
  
Petrovsky swung her gavel down. "Order! Order!"  
  
The swinging exit doors swung shut, as Petrovsky straightened her robes quietly. "Court is in recess for five minutes. Ms. Novak, you will have Ms. Cabot take the stand after this recess. Adjourned."  
  
"Alex!"  
  
Olivia and John stumbled over the recessing witnesses, throwing themselves on me with fury. Gasping for breath, I awkwardly patted both of them. "It's good to see you guys," I croaked. "But I can't breathe."  
  
John stepped back, disbelief written all over his face. "But how? They told me you were dead---even though it screamed conspiracy---"  
  
"I begged them to let me see Olivia and Elliot, John, and they were sworn not to tell."  
  
He stopped. "You asked to see Olivia and Elliot?"  
  
"There was nothing I could do---please, John, you have to understand."  
  
His eyes narrowed behind the darkened frames. "I knew this thing screamed conspiracy." He turned on his heel, walking briskly towards the courtroom doors. He flung them open, casting one final angry stare at me.  
  
"John, you don't understand---"  
  
"All rise for the Honorable---"  
  
"John, wait!"  
  
"Court is in session. Ms. Novak, call your witness."  
  
Casey hesitantly grabbed my arm, pulling me away from Olivia and towards the witness stand. "Come on, Alex," she said softly.  
  
"State your name, please," droned a court official.  
  
Fresh tears began to pour down my cheeks. "Alexandra Cabot."  
  
You'd think I would be happy to be Alex Cabot again. But seeing John's hurtful gaze made it worth absolutely nothing.  
  
Special Victims Unit  
Wednesday, May 12  
1:00 a.m.  
  
Olivia handed me a steaming cup of coffee, watching Elliot bounce Jonathon off his knee, cracking tiny laughs from the sleepy child. His eyes, brown and shadowy, looked at me between bounces. He called me Ex, unable to pronounce my name properly. It would due until the little guy could talk properly. It could be worse.  
  
He called John 'Unchie'.  
  
Thinking about John brought tears to my eyes. After the court had been dismissed for the day, no one had heard from him. Cragen checked his home, and it was empty, completely devoid of his presence. There hadn't been any contact between him and all of us for almost seventeen hours. Where he could have been was beyond us.  
  
"No word yet?" I asked Olivia.  
  
She shook her head, taking Jonathon from Elliot. "Sorry, Alex. Cragen and Fin are out there right now. Casey's outside in case he comes here." She paused. "He just needs to blow off some steam," she added. "It was probably a big shock seeing you back today."  
  
"Maybe his old heart couldn't take it," joked Elliot.  
  
Olivia frowned. "Come on, El."  
  
He glanced at me. "Sorry, Alex. You know we're just as worried about him as you are."  
  
"Are you in love with him?"  
  
He cocked an eyebrow. "Love, huh?"  
  
"Yeah," I replied defensively. "He may be old, melancholic, and miserly, but he's my old, melancholic, and miserly man."  
  
"I knew you two dated, but were you serious?"  
  
I shrugged. "I never got to tell him how I really felt. For all he knew, our relationship was just some fling." I spat the last word out, bitterness edging on my weary voice.  
  
"He's okay, Alex. Just don't worry," said Olivia quietly, cradling Jonathon in the crook of her arm. "Why don't you go outside and ask Casey if she wants some coffee."  
  
I stopped. "What do you guys think of her?"  
  
Elliot and Olivia glanced at each other. "She's a good ADA. Wins a good amount of cases, and doesn't cut too many deals," answered Elliot.  
  
"Is she better than me?"  
  
"Alex, that's your sense of fatigued vanity talking."  
  
"Is she?"  
  
"You two are both---"  
  
I set my mug down. "I'll go see if she wants some coffee."  
  
I walked through the familiar swinging doors quickly, throwing my long coat through my numb arms. I couldn't feel anything with this guilt hanging over my body. I felt responsible for John taking off during the trial, and him MIA. I couldn't get over this jealously towards Casey. I didn't know if she had truly taken my place or not. The way she interacted with Olivia and Elliot, though, was shaky. I could tell that her start hadn't been smooth.  
  
I came back to New York thinking my life would go back to normal. That I would shed the identity of Kate Rogers and become Alex Cabot, superpower ADA again. That everything would just pick up where I left off.  
  
I was selfish in that idea, thinking that the world revolved around my life. But years in the Witness Protection Program just made me cling to my beliefs even more. I would resume my life. I just had to.  
  
A soft May shower poured outside, dampening my hair slightly. Casey stood alone underneath a brick awning, watching endless raindrops splatter on the black concrete sidewalk.  
  
"My turn to stand guard duty," I said, forcing myself to smile. "Olivia wants to know if you want some coffee, too."  
  
She shook her head. "I'm fine. Standing out here is...sort of peaceful, you know?"  
  
I shrugged. "I used to stare at the rain for a long time too. But then I realized that it still doesn't help you sleep at night."  
  
She looked at me. "The nightmares...they get worse with each case. How did you manage for so long?"  
  
"You just have to numb yourself after awhile. Eventually, nothing can penetrate your skin anymore." I held out my hand, catching a few stray droplets on my palm. "Soon, you can't feel anything."  
  
"You're quite the philosoph, aren't you?"  
  
"What I've seen in my life hasn't been pleasant. Believe me."  
  
Casey nodded, briefly looking down the street. Empty streetlights and deserted cars were all that met her gaze.  
  
"The detectives didn't tell you what happened a few months ago, did they?"  
  
"No, they didn't tell me. Remember, I just got back to New York. I haven't had time for much of anything, never less a gossip gab with Olivia."  
  
"I was raped, Alex."  
  
I blinked awkwardly, her words failing to seep into my skin. "Oh."  
  
"Is that all you can say?"  
  
"Casey, I---"  
  
"You were never forgotten, Alex." Her eyes flashed dangerously at me. "These detectives could never let go of your memory. John kept a picture of you at his desk the entire two years. Olivia and Elliot treated me like dirt for the first few cases. No one wanted to accept me, because they all clung to the belief that you weren't dead. That you would come back someday, and I would just disappear."  
  
"I—"  
  
"Let me finish. Things have finally come around, and I've finally been accepted. I guess the fact that I was raped made them realize that even their new ADA can be a victim."  
  
"When did it happen?"  
  
She tugged at the bottom of her dark blouse, revealing a patch of pale skin, a fading tattoo shining in the dark streetlight. "He branded me, Alex, and I'm never going to forget it, even when the mark fades. It's just like the impact you made here in SVU. I can take your job, work in your office, win and lose your cases, but your presence is never going to leave. You could have died, and I'm sure every detective would still have expected you to rise from your grave, and return.  
  
"They would never forget you. To do so would betray the memory of everything you did for this God-forsaken department. I know they don't sleep at night anymore, and I'm haunted by their nightmares too. We're all haunted. It's what SVU has that no other department can bond over. We have the live victims. We see their faces, battered and bruised until you can't distinguish a gender. We carry their bodies as a burden that won't fade over time."  
  
"All this for me?" I said, stepping towards her.  
  
She stared at me, almost defiantly. "They didn't stop waiting for you to come back."  
  
"I know."  
  
She smiled faintly. "Good."  
  
"All this talking is boring." Out of the corner of my eye, I watched a tall figure emerge from the shadows. John's eyes sparkled slightly from behind his darkened glasses. "Alex, I'm sorry."  
  
From the way he nearly knocked me down, I figured he was glad to see me. His arms were tight around my waist, and for the first time in my life, I could hear him crying. John Munch was crying.  
  
"I'll go inside and see how Olivia's holding up with the baby." Casey disappeared back into the stationhouse, winking at me before leaving.  
  
"You don't know how much I missed you," he murmured, holding my face cupped in his hands. From the way his eyes bore into mine, I knew he was memorizing every part of my face. Just in case.  
  
He never wanted to forget, either.  
  
"Don't look at me like that," I said quietly, his fingers twining with mine.  
  
"Like how?"  
  
"Like I'm a ghost returning from the underworld. Like I'm a victim you need to pity." I touched his cheek. "I was never dead. You don't need to see me as a vic. I'm not one."  
  
He held me away, grasping my shoulders tightly. "You are a victim, Alex. Everyone here is. Casey is one of rape. Elliot is burdened as a struggling new father. Olivia is the child of a rape. Fin has his demons to face, and I'm a broken old man."  
  
"I'm not a victim," I repeated stubbornly.  
  
"You are. Valez is going to rot in jail for his actions, but you need to come to peace with what happened."  
  
"The Program stole two years of my life. Two years I could have been here. With you."  
  
"Which is why I don't just see you as a victim. You and I are both victims. You aren't alone, Alex."  
  
"But I---"  
  
"You're here, and that is what's important. Everything can fall back into place again, if you accept what happened."  
  
"You act as if I were raped or beaten to a bloody pulp."  
  
"Emotionally, you were scarred but what happened years ago. But let those scars heal."  
  
I wiped my eyes wearily. "Since when did you become a shrink? I thought that was Huang's job."  
  
He gazed at me sincerely. "Since the moment you came back, every bone in my body was on fire. Every hair stood up on end. I thought I was seeing a ghost, but then I realized you were alive and well."  
  
"Aren't you the charming romantic," I responded fairly dryly.  
  
He embraced me tightly. "Let's go inside, Alex."  
  
"Okay."  
  
Genuine happiness dotted his lined face. He led me inside, and I could hear the happy shouts when they saw John's face appear in the bullpen. Everything was coming back to me. Olivia's smile, Elliot's charm, Fin's die- hard toughness, and Cragen's mysterious soft side.  
  
The healing process for John and I could take many years. But I was home again, and that was all that mattered most.  
  
Looking back at the vapid night rain, I realized that the shrink had been wrong, all those years ago.  
  
John would find true love.  
  
And I would come to accept change.  
  
A/N: No, no, this isn't technically the last part of the fic. There will be an epilogue/Chapter 10 up remotely soon. But it's been a fairly long haul (about two months) and I'm honored, flattered, and more than happy to keep writing. All the feedback helps me be a better writer. Thanks especially to the svufiction forums, who kept my muse going and the support up. Power to the SVU canon crusaders. Duck, you're my hero and a smut goddess. Thanks for everything, and look for more Law and Order: SVU fiction soon.  
  
Thanks again, Ava Cabot 


	10. X: Prelude To Doubt

Ava Cabot  
  
Prelude to Doubt  
  
A Law and Order: SVU fic  
  
Disclaimer: I wish I owned them all. But I don't, so Dick Wolf has all their rights.  
  
A/N: Thank you for all the feedback and support throughout the run of this fic. This epilogue/final chapter is dedicated to all of you who read, reviewed, and kept me writing.  
  
Don't turn away,  
  
Don't give into the pain.  
Don't try to hide,  
Though they're screaming your name.  
Don't close your eyes,  
God knows what lies behind them.  
Don't turn out the light,  
Never sleep, never die.  
I'm frightened by what I see.  
  
But somehow I know,  
That there's much more to come.  
Immobilized by my fear,  
And soon to be blinded by tears.  
I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away  
  
Evanescence: Whisper  
  
For once, I'm thankful that I'm awake at this ungodly hour.  
  
I can think on my own now. I'm not on the job or tending to Jonathon, who just fell asleep, next to Elliot on our bed. He couldn't stop crying, despite my rocking, singing, or pleading. Someone had bothered him, and even as his mother, I didn't know what it was.  
  
Up here on my fire escape, I can reflect. I used to sit on my apartment's fire escape as a kid and teenager, curling up with my schoolbooks away from my mother. Fin and I used to talk about our escape routes. He would hide on his rooftop, me on the fire escape. He understood.  
  
Alex should be here any minute. I feel bad for calling her at one in the morning. I knew where she is, of course. I doubted that she and John had been apart since she returned weeks ago. I called John's cell, which he picked up reluctantly after five rings. He muttered something incomprehensive before handing the phone to Alex, who replied that she'd drive over.  
  
I don't know why I'm still pondering this.  
  
I couldn't answer the question. Not even with Elliot and Jonathon sleeping in the other room. I didn't know what I regretted or appreciated anymore.  
  
Curling up here alone in the cold, I shiver at my guilt. I'm a terrible person for even doubting what I've been given. I have Elliot and a son. My life finally seems to have meaning. I don't come home to an empty apartment anymore.  
  
I should feel lucky.  
  
And yet I don't.  
  
Everything in my life seemed to have a price. I wanted my mother to stop drinking and pull her life together. She did stop drinking finally---but that's only because she's dead.  
  
I wanted Elliot for the longest time. I never wanted to be without him. And when he and I finally were together, the Stabler family had been broken into pieces. And I still felt like it was completely my fault.  
  
Children were never anything I considered having. I couldn't see myself as a mother, what with my job and the emotional baggage it makes me carry. Adding the life of an innocent child would nearly crucify me.  
  
But then I became pregnant. The motherly instincts, the knowing of everything about a child, they just seemed to kick in during those nine months that I carried Jonathon and mourned for Christine. Even having a healthy child had a price: I lost one.  
  
The bright headlights of John's car lit up the street, as I watched Alex park the car quickly and stride out, dressed in John's heavy overcoat and sweats. Her blonde hair hung loosely around her moonlit shoulders, as her finger hovered over the door buzzer.  
  
"You're late," I called from up on the fire escape, a grin spreading across my face.  
  
She glanced upwards towards me. "Shouldn't you be asleep, now?"  
  
"Why? When I can just call you over for some girl talk."  
  
"Can you at least let me inside? It's damn cold out here. Aren't you freezing?"  
  
"Elliot's robe is rather warm, actually."  
  
Alex smiled. "You two are simply amazing. Now let me in the apartment before I turn into a frozen ADA."  
  
I rose from my crouched position, carefully tiptoeing past Elliot and Jonathon's sleeping forms. Alex's muttered curses about the weather faded as I hit the door buzzer, and heard the front doors downstairs groan open. Alex's soft footsteps were the only noises I heard in the deserted hallway.  
  
She managed to reach the door quickly, as I shifted from foot to foot nervously. I couldn't believe I had called her out in the middle of the night. I was people accustomed to dealing with their own problems alone. If I needed help, which I often stubbornly refused, it was always from Elliot. He was the rock to my crumbling world, the light at the end of my tunnel. His strength gave me relief and comfort during the long nine months of my pregnancy, and he held me when I cried at night, usually during the rare chance we could have slept.  
  
Watching Jonathon sleep soundly in my bedroom reminds me how happy I am that he's there. No one can ever truly appreciate anything, until part of it's gone forever.  
  
"Penny for your thoughts, Olivia." It was a statement, not a request.  
  
"You can have them for free, Alex."  
  
She flicked back a piece of stray hair from her loose bun. "I know you didn't call me at John's in the middle of the night just to chat." She stopped, after hearing Jonathon's steady breathing next to Elliot's sleeping form. "There's something more, isn't there?"  
  
I chose not to reply. She shrugged slowly, following me wordlessly back outside onto the fire escape. Alex was the closest thing I had to a good friend. Smiling slightly, I realized that Elliot and I had long transcended the boundaries between best friends...and then some. I wouldn't go as far as to say that we were just soul mates. He was still my best friend, and even marriage wouldn't change that.  
  
I closed the sliding door behind Alex, gently, so not to wake the two sleeping boys. She sat beside me, her terrycloth-covered legs dangling overhead the street. Down the block, a streetlight flashed into darkness.  
  
I spun Elliot's engagement ring between two fingers. Alex watched me with soulful eyes, drinking in every nervous movement I made under her gaze.  
  
"Elliot wants to get married."  
  
"I know."  
  
Slipping the ring back on my left hand, I snorted. "I keep forgetting what I've told you already."  
  
"I don't mind hearing what I missed."  
  
"John didn't fill you in."  
  
"He did, with his conspiracal details. I wanted to hear everything from you, though. It's been a long two years, and everything's changed. When I left, you weren't even showing yet."  
  
"I started to show pretty soon after."  
  
Alex snickered. "I'm sure you did."  
  
I looked up at her. "Alex, I'm sick of ignoring my problems."  
  
Raising an eyebrow slowly, she reached out and patted my shoulder. "What problems, Olivia?"  
  
I threw up my hands. "Since the day I joined SVU, there have been nothing but stupid mistakes and stupid problems."  
  
"We're going back that far into your past? I thought you just wanted to talk about Jonathon. Or even Elliot and this marriage."  
  
"That's what I thought too."  
  
Alex stopped, her legs dangling still. Her eyes softened, casting an almost pitiful glance in my direction.  
  
"Don't look at me like that, Alex. I'm not a victim."  
  
She took my hand in hers. "That's exactly what I said to John. And it's not true. You are a victim. You keep accusing yourself of things that aren't your fault. You're grieving over events that just fell into place. You didn't choose for--"  
  
"Cut the crap, Alex."  
  
"Olivia, come on."  
  
"No."  
  
"You aren't at fault for anything."  
  
"Yes, I am. I chose to screw Elliot and myself over. I made everyone around us suffer, namely Kathy, his kids, the whole department, and most of all, him. Some unseen force spited me, and I became pregnant, lost one baby, and watched one grow up healthy, knowing I brought him into the world with selfish reasons."  
  
"You need to talk to Elliot."  
  
"I need a shrink."  
  
"What you need is to talk to Elliot. Don't talk to a shrink." She paused. "Don't tell George I said that, though."  
  
I didn't even allow myself a thin smile. "You don't understand, Alex."  
  
"How?"  
  
"You didn't ruin John's life. You didn't get pregnant with his child completely out wedlock, while he still married with four other children. You didn't completely damage the bearings of everyone around you."  
  
A light breeze stirred through Alex's hair, tossing it gently around her face as she stared at me.  
  
"Do you feel guilty, Olivia?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You didn't hesitate when answering."  
  
"I can't help how I feel."  
  
Alex stood suddenly, pressing her palm against the cold glass door. Her hand slipped down, until a lone finger was pointed to Jonathon, who sleepily kicked at his sheets.  
  
"Do you regret having him?"  
  
A startled response caught within my throat. "Of course not."  
  
"Then you don't resent what you did to cause your son to be born." Alex smiled, knowing she had me caught. She hadn't lost her lawyer's touch just yet.  
  
I curled up next to the freezing rail. "I hurt everyone, Alex. I don't even know if I should have even had Jonathon."  
  
"Does this seem realistic to you?"  
  
"What? Getting pregnant, rushing into a marriage with Elliot, and nearly getting my ass nailed to the wall by the Morris Commission? Yeah, Alex, it's a regular dream come true."  
  
"So you do think this entire thing is a little surrealistic?"  
  
"A little." I paused. "Do you think I should have had Jonathon?"  
  
"Obviously you were meant to be a mother."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Look at your son, Olivia. You surely can't regret having him."  
  
"I love my son."  
  
"Then stop feeling sorry for yourself. Accept what's happened, and move on with your life. Do you need Elliot to tell you this?"  
  
She turned back to me, sliding down to my level against the milky glass. "Do you need to hear the words from your own son?"  
  
My eyes stung with unwilling tears. I hated showing my emotions—it had always been a sign of weakness. I didn't want to face my feelings.  
  
Maybe I wasn't strong enough.  
  
Her hands, settling on my shoulders carefully, shook as she spoke. "You have to let go, Olivia." She stared at me through her clear blue eyes, pleading for me to listen to her.  
  
"What if I can't?"  
  
"You can." Her voice was comfortingly reassuring, like Elliot's. I wanted to believe her so badly. I wanted to just let go of all my actions.  
  
But how does an already guilty person repent?  
  
Alex moved suddenly, staring up into Elliot's sleepy face, Jonathon perched half-asleep across his chest. He blinked at us, watching Alex smile nervously and me frown.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he asked, glancing down at Alex.  
  
"Girl talk," she replied cheerfully. "Olivia and I were bonding on your fire escape."  
  
"Uh-huh."  
  
"Go back to sleep, El," I said softly. "Don't wake Jonathon up either."  
  
Elliot patted his back. "Too late. We've been awake for awhile now, and I can tell that none of us will be sleeping any time soon."  
  
"Maybe I should go," she started, watching Elliot's eyes lock with mine. "You two should probably talk...alone."  
  
"No," Elliot said firmly. "You can stay." He hoisted Jonathon out of his arms, handing his still body to Alex. "Put Jonathon back to bed in his room, and wait in the kitchen. Make some coffee, watch TV, I don't care."  
  
"Right." Alex hesitantly took Jonathon, rubbing his dark-haired head gently. "Come on, little guy," she cooed softly. "Let's go inside where it's warm..."  
  
I watched Alex leave, half of me wishing I could leave too. She glanced back at us briefly, before disappearing into the kitchen. I could hear her bustling around, getting out the cold coffee grounds heating water. No doubt Jonathon would wake up soon. He was always awake when we left for work, the smell of coffee invigorating him as it did us.  
  
Like father, like son. Like mother, like son.  
  
"Why did you call Alex?"  
  
His question seems so simple—and yet I don't want to answer.  
  
"I didn't want to bother you," I mumbled, my voice barely audible.  
  
Elliot carefully lifted my chin up, staring up at his six-foot frame with tears in my eyes. His eyes understood—God, I wanted just to admit all the guilt I was feeling.  
  
But then, I'd have to admit how weak I felt.  
  
"You never bother me, Liv."  
  
Inside, the coffee machine clicked off. Silence passed between the two of us, as I heard Alex humming in the kitchen, smiling at the wide array of coffee we kept in the cupboards, stocked next to each other in my haphazard arrangement.  
  
"I can see it in your eyes, Liv."  
  
"Really? Since when did you become an expert on reading my eyes?"  
  
"Since the day I met you. I'm not just your partner. I'm going to be your husband." He smiled. "Didn't you say that we transcended all levels of closeness already?"  
  
"Did I?" I replied faintly.  
  
"You did."  
  
"You also said we plunged into the point of no return."  
  
"That I definitely don't remember saying."  
  
"It all goes back to that night, Liv. When I came over in the middle of the night looking for marriage advice, and ended up—"  
  
"Let's not go back to that."  
  
Of course I remember that night. He called me at four in the morning, standing outside my apartment door in at least twenty below weather, freezing in pajamas and his overcoat.  
  
We did end up on the couch that night. I was so stupid, letting him run his hands all down my body, like the very sluts that Vice arrests every day. But when he kissed, it was magic. Every part of my body flew, and I felt as if I could fly. Elliot was my forbidden dream, and the part of me that had been missing since I could remember.  
  
He completed me, in the same way that Jonathon fulfilled all the maternal and compassionate instincts I used with every child that came through SVU.  
  
They made me.  
  
Elliot's chest was warm against my cheek, as he rocked me back and forth in the moonlight.  
  
Inside, Alex smiled, watching the two of us together.  
  
"Well, I'll be damned," she said softly.  
  
"Everything can come to full circle with those two."  
  
A/N 2: it really has been a nice, long haul. The door may be closing for this series, but expect more Olivia/Elliot and Alex/John fics from me soon. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 


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